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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23482045">I Don't Know What You're Doing to Me, Mon Cheri</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/drama_queen77/pseuds/drama_queen77'>drama_queen77</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fall Out Boy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, But Pete makes is better, Drunk Driving, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Frottage, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Language Barrier, M/M, Making Love, Masturbation, Mental Institutions, Nightmares, Patrick's story is so fucking sad, Psychological Trauma, Slow Build, Wet Dream</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:22:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>45,490</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23482045</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/drama_queen77/pseuds/drama_queen77</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete's dad has had enough of his antics and sends him away to a Swiss institution. There, he meets Patrick Stumph, whose English is terrible, but Pete falls in love with him and wants to try and tell him so.<br/>FROM OTPPROMPTS.TUMBLR: Imagine your OTP’s native languages are different. Person A decides to learn B’s language to ask them to marry them, and B walks in on them practicing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Another vintage SelketsChild work back by one or two people's demand. XD</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You have the right to remain silent,” the officer said sternly as the cuffs clicked tightly into place around Pete's wrists. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney—”</p>
<p>“Dude, my dad's one of the most powerful attorneys in Chicago. Tell me something I don't know,” Pete slurred. “We both know I'm gonna walk. Don't waste your time.”</p>
<p>The cop shook Pete bodily by the handcuffs, eliciting a wince and groan as his shoulders twisted uncomfortably. “If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you free of charge. Do you understand these rights as I've just explained them to you?” His tone had become bitter and sarcastic.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Pete said. “Yeah, I got it.”</p>
<p>With that, the cop turned Pete forcefully and brought him to the cruiser. He opened the door and pushed Pete's head down, maneuvering him into the back. When the door closed, Pete looked sullenly at the twisted metal that used to be his car, wrapped around a tree.</p>
<p>The cop spoke in a monotone into his two-way. “This is Unit 427 leaving reported MVA scene on Lake Shore Drive. Operator is Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the Third, male, Caucasian--"</p>
<p>"I'm not Caucasian!" Pete protested.</p>
<p>The cop went on, unperturbed, "--twenty-two years old. Suspect is in custody for DUI. Breathalyzer was refused, but suspect failed multiple field sobriety tests and is visibly impaired.”</p>
<p>“Dude, I can't even remember the alphabet backward when I'm sober,” Pete said, then winced when he realized the implication. "By the way, I'm not really Caucasian," he added sullenly.</p>
<p>“So you admit now that you are not sober?” The cop said. Pete didn't say anything else, just slumped back against the seat, defeated.</p>
<p>In the station, they ran his fingerprints, took mug shots, and gave him one phone call before putting him in the drunk tank.</p>
<p><em>Dad is gonna be pretty pissed, but I gotta get out of this.</em> He gulped down his nervousness as he dialed his house.</p>
<p>“Mmmm, hhlo?” a sleepy male voice asked after several rings.</p>
<p>“Dad, it's Pete. Um, I'm uh, at the police station. I was in an accident, and I got arrested.”</p>
<p>“Are you hurt? Are you alright, son?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, Dad.”</p>
<p>“Did you hurt anyone else?”</p>
<p>“No. I um, well, I sorta ran the car into a tree. It's completely fuckin' destroyed. I think the tree's OK, though.” Pete gave a weak laugh.</p>
<p>There was a long pause, and then the elder Wentz said, “Pete, are you drunk?”</p>
<p>Pete sighed. “Dad,” he pleaded, racking his brain for a good argument. When he realized he didn't have one, he just said, “Well, yeah, but—”</p>
<p>“I'll be down in the morning, Pete. I'll deal with you then. Go sleep it off in the tank tonight.” <em>Click.</em></p>
<p>Pete stared at the receiver, unable to believe what had just happened. <em>I guess my luck ran out.</em></p>
<p>He couldn't have been more right.</p>
<p>******</p>
<p>Peter Wentz II did arrive at the police station in the morning, as promised, and bailed Pete out. He paid the fine, and Pete lost his license for ninety days.</p>
<p>“Thanks, Dad,” Pete said, giving a weak smile.</p>
<p>“Don't thank me. This isn't over,” Peter said firmly. Pete felt his heart rate pick up.</p>
<p>When they got home, Pete really wanted to go crash. It's not like you get a great night's sleep in holding, but Peter directed him to sit in the family room. Dale, his mother, was already sitting on the couch in her bathrobe, opposite the armchair where Pete now found himself. Her face was sad as she gazed at her son.</p>
<p>“Look, guys, I know I fucked up,” Pete began.</p>
<p>Peter sat next to Dale and said, “Son, this is beyond just a fuck-up. This is the last straw. I'm not bailing you out anymore. I've done it for too long, and it's time for us to take more drastic measures.”</p>
<p>Pete looked back and forth between his parents. “What do you mean? What are you gonna do to me?”</p>
<p>“We're sending you to a health center in Switzerland,” Peter said. When Pete made to protest, he put a hand up and went on, “It's top-of-the-line, and getting you out of the country will keep this out of the papers. I can't lose work, lose cases, and thus lose the money I use to support this family over the reputation of my reckless, devil-may-care son.”</p>
<p>“But Dad...” Pete whined.</p>
<p>“This is the end of the line, Peter. You're going.”</p>
<p>Pete launched himself out of the armchair, stomped up the stairs, and slammed his bedroom door behind him.</p>
<p>******</p>
<p>The Wentz family stood at the doors of the center in Geneva. Pete sulked, chewing his nails and eyeing the signs in German suspiciously. “How will I know what anyone is saying to me?” he asked sarcastically.</p>
<p>“Relax, Pete. The doctors here all speak English. You'll be fine.” Peter patted his son's shoulder, and Dale scooped her son into a big hug.</p>
<p>“We'll call as often as we can to check in on you,” she said softly, her voice thick with tears. “We love you, baby.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, right,” Pete scoffed.</p>
<p>“Alright, then, have it your way,” Peter said angrily. They led Pete inside and made sure he was greeted by the director before turning and leaving without another word. Pete looked over his shoulder and saw his mother still wiping her eyes as his father led her out.</p>
<p>******</p>
<p>The first night consisted mostly of interviews and paperwork (“No, really, just call me ‘Pete’), as well as a tour of the facility. It actually was better than Pete had thought. Pool, gym, three squares a day. <em>This is really just an upscale prison for rich delinquents</em>, Pete thought.</p>
<p>“Dis is your room,” the director, Jan, said with a thick accent. Pete looked around. It wasn’t bad. It even had a window, though it was barred. “Group terapy is tomorrow, 8am.”</p>
<p>“Group therapy?” Pete said, incredulous. “I’ve already been treated for bipolar disorder. You have my meds, and everything.”</p>
<p>“Yes, und dey’ve done vunders for you, obviously.” Jan eyed Pete evenly, obviously unimpressed with his smart mouth. “Come, get some rest. Ve start early tomorrow. Good night, Mr. Ventz.”</p>
<p>“Pete,” he said weakly as Jan turned to leave.</p>
<p>Jan stopped and turned back. “Of course. Pete. Good night.” He gave a faint smile and closed the door, leaving Pete alone in new and unfamiliar surroundings.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Group therapy was every bit as tedious as Pete had feared. Each kid spoke in turn, some in English, some in French or German. Jan interpreted each time so everyone could understand. Pete was suddenly very insecure about his own presence in the institute. A lot of the other kids had real problems—drug addiction, suicide attempts.</p><p>When it was Pete’s turn, he sighed deeply rolled his eyes to mask his embarrassment, and said, “Hey, everyone. I’m Pete, and uh, I’m here because I drove drunk and crashed my car into a tree. My dad thinks being here will be good for me, and I guess also good for his image. He’s a lawyer, and he’s trying to be District Attorney, which is kind of a big deal where I’m from.” Jan interpreted as Pete spoke.</p><p>“D’ou êtes-vous?” a young girl across the circle asked. “Euh, j’veux-dire, where, euhm…”</p><p>Jan helpfully said, “Pete, Lena would like to know where you are from.”</p><p>“Oh, um, the States, obviously. Chicago, Illinois. It’s, um, it's in the middle,” Pete replied with a laugh. Jan repeated the sentence in French and German, and the group chuckled lightly.</p><p>“Und Peter, which do you think is more important to your father? You, or as you say, his image?” Jan asked thoughtfully, turning back to face him.</p><p>“Whichever it is, I polish them both up by being here and getting over the need to do dumb things, right?” Pete said sullenly. He noticed while he and Jan were having this exchange, some of the others were whispering to each other in French and German, ostensibly translating what they were saying and sparing Jan the need to do so.</p><p>Jan put a hand to his chin. “Hmm, while that may be true, you seem not to trust your father’s intentions.”</p><p>Pete smirked and snapped, “Look, you don’t get to be D.A. by virtue of your warmth and caring.”</p><p>“Even still, Peter, do you not think the process will be better if you are doing this for your own well-being? That is, if you believe your father cares for you and wishes for you to be well?” Jan asked.</p><p>Pete shrugged. “I guess so. And it’s just 'Pete'. ‘Peter’ is my dad.”</p><p>Jan smiled and nodded sagely. “I see, Pete. You wish not to be like him.”</p><p>After a long pause, Pete sighed and said, “Not really, no. I’m not his perfect little golden boy, and I never will be.”</p><p>“Personne n’est parfait, Pete,” Lena said with a smile. “C’est la vie.”</p><p>Jan laughed and said, “That’s exactly right. No one is perfect, Pete, and that’s just life.”</p><p>Pete smiled at the girl and said, “Thanks, I needed that.”</p><p>******</p><p>Pete sat alone in the corner of the cafeteria at lunch. <em>This is worse than high school</em>, he thought. He watched groups of other kids chatting, and it almost looked normal, but there was a strange tension in everyone’s faces. Guarded. Lena was sitting with him, smiling kindly between bites of her own sandwich, using what little English she could. Pete smiled back amiably and helped her as much as he could, but he wasn’t entirely sure whether she said she was from Southern France or Sudan.</p><p>He had an individual session with a therapist, an American, who said that their work over the next few weeks would be resolving Pete’s anger at his father through helping Pete accept himself as he was, instead of feeling angry for not being a better model child.</p><p>“Weeks?” Pete snorted. “How about years?”</p><p>The therapist gave a weathered chuckle and said, “Don’t underestimate me, young Pete. I haff vays off makink you talk.” She ratcheted up a fake German accent, and Pete just threw his head back and laughed heartily.</p><p>“Alright, you’ve won me over, Melinda,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I’ll see you next week, right?”</p><p>“Right. Now go relax. You’ve earned it.”</p><p>“I will. Thanks.”</p><p>Swimming suddenly sounded like the best idea, but Pete of course hadn’t thought to pack swim trunks. Undeterred, as he so often was at the thought of exposing himself, he just went to the pool anyway. It was deserted, except for the surveillance cameras. Pete wasn’t sure he was grateful for that or not. Nonetheless, he stripped down and dove in. Soon, he was swimming laps, somersaulting at each end, enjoying the quiet rush and lap of the water. He almost felt like the it was cleansing some of his frustration off of him. He almost didn’t notice another splash.</p><p>Almost.</p><p>Pete broke the surface, gasping and clinging to the edge of the pool as he looked around to see someone else swimming laps two lanes over. He watched and tried to steady his breathing until the form broke at the opposite end of the pool. He shook the water off his fair head, wiped his face, and then noticed Pete at the other end.</p><p>“<em>Was machtst du?</em>” the boy asked, startled.</p><p>Pete took his best guess. “Uh, swimming?”</p><p>The boy continued to stare with a purposefully blank expression. “<em>Du kannst nicht hier sein.</em>”</p><p>Pete laughed nervously and turned his back to the wall, spreading his arms out and resting his elbows on the ledge. It was a falsely cool move, one he always used to distract people from being pissed at him by showing off his body. He knew people tended to like it.</p><p>“Uh, dude, I don’t speak… German? It’s German, right?”</p><p>The boy swallowed hard and scrunched up his face, as though he were concentrating very hard, and then slowly said, “No one here now. <em>Verboten</em>.”</p><p>“Oh, uh, sorry. I’m new here,” Pete said. “I’ll go.” He hoisted himself up out of the pool, completely unabashed in his nakedness. “Uh, I kinda don’t have a towel. Um, mind if I dry off in the sauna?” He pointed in that direction, and definitely didn't miss the way the other boy averted his gaze, blushing crimson. Since he didn’t reply, Pete went in there, taking silence as consent, even though he knew it was probably because the boy didn't understand him.</p><p>Pete spread out in the sauna and closed his eyes. He relished the heat and the way the water on his skin evaporated almost immediately. After a minute or two, the door opened and something soft hit him. He jumped and opened his eyes to see a towel on his stomach.</p><p>“Cover up,” the boy said as he came in wearing a t-shirt with his trunks, and a towel over his shoulders. He immediately sat and closed his eyes.</p><p>Pete stood and wrapped his towel around himself, and took a moment to look at the boy. He was pale, almost translucent, with fine strawberry hair. He had high cheekbones and a positively luscious mouth. As though he sensed the stare, the boy opened his eyes. They were blue-green, swirling like the ocean. As he opened his mouth to speak, Pete felt positively stricken by his beauty. He fell back onto the bench and folded his forearms over his lap as his pulse quickened.</p><p>“Vhat?” the boy said. Pete noticed that his brow furrowed in the cutest way when he was suspicious.</p><p>“Who are you?” Pete finally said.</p><p>The boy just stared, and Pete thought maybe he didn’t understand. He put a hand on his chest and said, “Pete.” He held his breath and waited.</p><p>The boy rolled his eyes and left. Pete sat and stared after him, totally dumbfounded.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pete lay awake into the night, the smell of chlorine still fresh in his damp, springy hair. He lamented the fact that he wasn’t allowed a straightener or eyeliner in here. He’d have liked to look his best in case he should run into anyone he wanted to impress. Namely, the mysterious, completely beautiful boy from the pool. He knew nothing about him except the way his skin glowed, like moonlight, and the way his lips puckered out without the boy even trying. The way his eyes swam blue and green like seawater when he leveled Pete with his gaze.</p><p>
  <em>No one here now. Cover up.</em>
</p><p>It hadn't escaped Pete's attention that the only words the boy had spoken in English were ones designed to build barriers, to keep him at a distance. He groaned and clutched at the sheets as his restless mind spun with the need to find a way to communicate with him, find out more about him. To know him.</p><p>When the time came to clean up for group therapy, Pete hadn’t slept at all. He knew he looked it, too, but he supposed he was allowed to look a little disheveled here. He took a shower and threw on clean pajama pants and a t-shirt. <em>Might as well be comfortable if I have to look like shit</em>, he thought bitterly.</p><p>He sat through the group’s epiphanies and realizations, some real and helpful and some of the <em>oh-duh</em> kind. Pete shifted around in his seat, antsy with the need to ask them about this boy, see if anyone knew him, but at the same time, wanting to keep the secret all to himself, wanting to peel back the layers around him before ever having to share him with anyone else. None of it made any sense, he knew, but Pete really wanted this.</p><p>
  <em>God, I just want a fucking flatiron. My kingdom to be able to do my hair.</em>
</p><p>As everyone was leaving, Pete pulled Jan aside. “Hey, can I ask you something, Jan?”</p><p>Jan smiled kindly and said, “Of course, Pete. How may I help you?”</p><p>Pete smiled wide, suddenly unconcerned about his appearance. “How do you ask someone’s name in German?”</p><p>Jan frowned in a friendly but sly way. “Why do you ask? Is there someone you wish to impress?”</p><p>Pete shifted on his socked feet. “Uh, sort of. I don’t know. I just figure if I ever want to make any friends, I might as well try to come off as less of an ignorant, self-centered American, right?” He shrugged sheepishly, hoping Jan wouldn’t see through his flimsy little fib.</p><p>“Why, Pete, that’s quite commendable, I think. Very… self-aware, something I didn’t to expect to see of you so soon. Very well.” And Jan told him, had Pete repeat it several times. “Very good,” he said, his German accent remaining a little thicker after he reverted back to English.</p><p>“Thanks, man,” he said, clapping Jan’s shoulder. He quickly retracted his hand, the smile dropping a bit. “Uh, sorry, I mean, thank you, Jan.”</p><p>Jan put a hand on Pete’s shoulder and gave a friendly shake and smile. “You’re quite welcome, Pete. Never apologize for being friendly to me. Most people don’t. They see me as… well, too much of an authority figure to treat me as an equal or a friend. It’s nice.” He waved Pete along and said, “Off with you, now. Show off your well-learned new phrase."</p><p>At breakfast, Pete looked around the room, scanning the usual cliques and trying to tune out the hushed din of conversations, not even lying to himself about the hope of catching a shock of strawberry hair or a glimmer of smooth, white skin. Lena eyed him curiously.</p><p>“What do you look for?” she asked, pushing one of her long, blonde braids back over her shoulder.</p><p>Pete paused, then met Lena’s eyes and said, “No one.”</p><p>Lena cocked an eyebrow. “Ah, so… <em>une personne</em>?”</p><p>Pete lowered his gaze and sighed. “Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe I dreamed him.”</p><p>She tilted her head for a moment, watching Pete’s strange behavior while she worked the words in her brain. “<em>Un rêve, oui</em>, it is always better there.”</p><p>Pete nodded and looked at Lena, suddenly very appreciative of this place, full of other people who were kind and a little on the outside of accepted reality. People here <em>understood</em>. He made a mental note to tell his father that when he got home.</p><p><em>Home.</em> Such a strange and foreign thought now.</p><p>As he finished what little he’d decided he would eat this morning, he dumped the rest and made to leave with everyone else, but he lingered, and one could say Pete wasn’t sure why, but he knew why. He’d been alone the last time he’d seen the boy. Pete almost thought he was dreaming when he finally saw him.</p><p>
  <em><strong>Un rêve.</strong> It is always better there.</em>
</p><p>He moved noiselessly, hunched over in blue scrubs, same as the orderlies wore, with a heather gray hoodie over it. Pete thought it looked like he was trying his best not to take up space or be seen. His heart broke a little at the thought that someone so beautiful could feel so… unworthy Pete walked right up to him and at down at the same table, but made sure not to get too close.</p><p>The boy flinched and looked accusingly at Pete. “<em>Du</em>,” he breathed in surprise.</p><p>The tone of voice was enough to tell Pete what it meant. He stared into the boy’s face and struggled to remember the phrase Jan had taught him just an hour ago. It was like the sight of him had wiped everything else from Pete’s mind. “Ve.. Vee… uh,” Pete sighed, closed his eyes a moment, and then spit out, “<em>Wie heißt du?</em>” The boy’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. He blinked deliberately a couple of times, but said nothing. “Please,” Pete sighed. “Please tell me. Wie heißt du?”</p><p>The boy’s brow knitted again, like it had last night, and he lowered his eyes and forced out, “Vhy?”</p><p>“You’re beautiful,” Pete said before his better sense could stop him. He reached for the boy’s arm, but jerked his arm back when the boy visibly flinched.</p><p>“<em>Nein,</em>” he said, still looking down. Pete didn’t need an interpreter to know that one. The boy met Pete’s eyes and said, “No name.” He went back to eating, resolutely not looking at Pete. Pete was surprised to find his eyes welling up. Not only was he just desperate to know more about the boy, but he couldn’t bear the idea of this kid being so scared, so apologetic for just existing. Still, Pete couldn’t bring himself to leave his side, so he sat, silent, while the boy hurriedly shoveled his food in. He seemed to be trying to curl in on himself as much as he could. Pete folded his arms on the table, looking down and deliberately not staring at him.</p><p>When he finished, the boy got up to return his dishes. Pete followed him to the kitchen and said, “Please. I need to know.”</p><p>The boy looked back at him, uncomprehending. He simply said again, “No. No name.”</p><p>Pete put a gentle hand on his shoulder and softened his expression, and watched as the boy blushed furiously. “I’ll ask every day, if I have to. I need to know.” The boy jerked away from Pete’s touch, looking like he might cry. “I’m sorry,” Pete said, “I know you don’t understand me. But… I won’t give up. I need to know who you are.”</p><p>The boy clenched his jaw, then clenched out, “No,” though gritted teeth. His voice wavered as his eyes got glassy. “<em>Bitte… Nein.</em>”</p><p><em>Bitte.</em> Pete filed that one. It sounded like please. He decided to try it out. “<em>Bitte, wie heißt du?</em>”</p><p>The boy shook his head vehemently, face down, then turned and ran.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning, after breakfast, Pete lingered again just inside the doorway of the cafeteria, but the boy never showed. He sat for the entire three and a half hours between breakfast and lunch, until the crowd started filtering in again.</p><p>“Pete, you weren't in your room when we tried to bring your meds,” Jan said gently when he spotted him.</p><p>“I'm sorry, I was just... sitting here.” Pete looked at his folded hands on the table.</p><p>“The whole time?” Jan said, surprised. “Are you alright?”</p><p>“Yeah, man, I'm OK,” Pete said, trying not to sound too forlorn. “I guess I'm just a little sad today.”</p><p>“Well, that is to be expected when you miss your proper dosage,” Jan replied, clapping Pete's shoulder. Pete nodded, and didn't say anything else. “Well, just be sure to be in your room for the next ones, OK?” Pete nodded again, and Jan walked away.</p><p>He got lunch and devoured it, considering he'd barely picked at breakfast from the anticipation of seeing the boy. His mind was suddenly in high gear, wondering about how he might orchestrate another meeting. Of course, it wasn't long before an idea presented itself.</p><p>Pete had his individual session with Melinda that afternoon. She noticed Pete seemed more animated, more alive and engaged. Pete said he'd been feeling sad this morning, but liked feeling as though he had goals to work toward. Melinda said this was very encouraging. Of course, Pete didn't say what his exact goals were, so she took it to mean their therapeutic goals, and he let her believe this. He couldn't shake the feeling that his encounters with the boy were somehow, as he'd said, <em>verboten</em>. Maybe that's what made it all the more appealing. Forbidden fruit, and all that.</p><p>Plus, Pete also still had that weird dreamy feeling about him, like maybe the boy was conjured from his own mind. If that was the case, letting anyone else know, involving them, might ruin the dream.</p><p>
  <em><strong>Un rêve.</strong> It is always better there.</em>
</p><p>******</p><p>That night, Pete went to the pool. It was deserted, like before, but now he knew where to get towels. He left one on the side, stripped down to his boxer-briefs, and dove in. He made the conscious decision not to get naked this time, for fear of frightening the boy. At least, no more than he probably already had.</p><p>After a few minutes of doing laps, and again enjoying the quiet whoosh of the water, he heard the splash he'd been waiting for. When he got to the edge, he broke the surface, shook his hair off his face, and looked around for the boy. He saw him break at the opposite end of the pool, like before, and then meet his eyes with a hard set to his jaw.</p><p>“<em>Was willst du?</em>” the boy asked, his tone obviously growing irritated.</p><p>Pete replied with the only thing he knew. “<em>Wie heißt du?</em>”</p><p>“<em>Nein,</em>" he said, like before.</p><p>“Please,” Pete begged as he started to swim closer. “I need to know.” Pete expected him to scramble out of the pool, run and hide, or something. But the boy just pressed himself flat against the edge as Pete approached, and so he carefully maintained about a foot's distance between them. “I won't hurt you, I promise.” He stayed there, silently treading water, waiting and praying. He nearly gasped when he saw the boy's expression go from defensive to curious as he looked at Pete's dark hair, his olive skin, and then over the ink on Pete's collar and arms.</p><p>“<em>Hübsch,</em>” the boy said, and his tone was one of awe. He looked at Pete's confused face and said, “<em>Schön?</em>”</p><p>Misunderstanding the boy's intent, he pointed to himself and said, “No, Pete.”</p><p>The boy actually laughed, and Pete's heart stopped for half a second. It was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. The boy smirked, and put a hand to his chin. After a moment, he tried, “<em>Gut,</em>” and Pete nodded slowly.</p><p>“Good?” he said, offering a thumbs-up.</p><p>The boy nodded slowly, that look of awe back on his face, as he looked back down over Pete's body. “<em>Schön.</em> Ahhm, pretty? <em>Ja?</em>”</p><p>“Pretty? Me?” Pete asked. He pointed at the boy and tried to say it back like the boy had, “<em>Hübsch, schön</em>, all of it. You're beautiful.” Pete smiled, hoping the boy would take his meaning. Pete noticed that the gesture had closed some of the distance between them, and attempted to reach for the boy's shoulder. As if snapped from a trance, the boy blinked rapidly a few times, shook his head, and scrambled out of the pool.</p><p>“<em>Nein,</em>” he said, and the look on his face wore some fear and some sorrow. “<em>Es tut mir leid.</em>”</p><p>“No, don't go,” Pete pleaded, and swam to another side of the pool from where the boy stood. “I'll go. You should stay.” He got out and grabbed his towel, immediately wrapping it around his waist to conceal what was suddenly, and very inconveniently hampering his ability to think straight. He looked back at the boy one last time.</p><p>He was shaking, and he looked at Pete with the same sad expression and just said, “<em>Verzeihung.</em> I... I am... sorry.”</p><p>Pete turned and left, and heard the splash of the boy resuming his swim.</p><p>On his way back to his room, he realized he'd left his clothes, but was afraid of frightening the boy further if he returned. He stood in the hall, weighing his options, then decided his clothing supplies here were somewhat limited, and that he'd just be quick. When he pushed the door open slowly, he peered in to make sure the boy wouldn't notice him. Pete ducked in quickly to grab his stuff, and caught sight of the boy leaning over the edge of the pool, the lower half of his body still in the water. His hands were clasped in front of him, his eyes squinted tight, as he rattled off some litany of German words at lightning speed.</p><p>Pete grabbed his clothes as quietly as possible, his eyes never leaving the boy, and darted back out.</p><p>Just around the corner from the pool, Pete crashed straight into Jan.</p><p>“Late night swim?” Jan said, cocking an eyebrow.</p><p>Pete looked at his feet and hugged his clothes against his front. “Yeah,” he said guiltily.</p><p>“You should really be in your room, Pete. It's late, and the pool is unsupervised.”</p><p>“There's someone else there,” Pete blurted out.</p><p>Jan's face blanched. “What?”</p><p>“A boy. There's another boy in there. I've seen him a couple of other times, but... he's, like, always alone. Like he purposely avoids everyone. He's pale with reddish hair and blue eyes, and he's, like gorgeous, but he doesn't speak English really, so, like, I can't talk to him. Do you know him?”</p><p>“Is this why you wanted to know how to ask someone's name in German?” Jan said suspiciously.</p><p>Pete nodded. “Ah, well, save your breath. He won't tell you. I've been trying for seven years.”</p><p>“Seven years?” Pete breathed.</p><p>Jan nodded. “We just call him Patient 13.”</p><p>“Why is he alone all the time? He avoids everyone at meals, he comes here late at night, all alone, and he just... seems terrified.”</p><p>“Pete, you know I can't tell you anything about him. It's his choice whether he wishes to tell you anything. So... good luck with that,” Jan snorted.</p><p>“He told me I was pretty!” Pete hissed. “He laughed. He, I don't know, he likes me, I can tell, but he's scared.”</p><p>Jan looked at Pete with a sympathetic expression. “I'm sorry, Pete. I can't help you. I would advise you to forget about him. He's very guarded, very difficult. I know he won't want you prying. Come on, now, let's get you to your room.”</p><p>Pete sighed and slumped his shoulders, then let Jan lead him. Just as he was about to go in his door, he turned back and asked, “How do you say 'thirteen' in<br/>German?”</p><p>Jan chuckled and said, “<em>Dreizehn. Gute nacht</em>, Pete.” Pete smiled and retired as Jan locked the door behind him.</p><p>******</p><p>The next morning, all during group therapy, Jan kept shooting Pete these strange, warning, fearful looks, as though he were afraid that Pete might spill their secret about the boy. Pete smiled and winked at him. Pete would <em>never</em>. He spouted the usual stuff about his father, about his understanding of himself, and so on. Jan nodded and smiled appropriately. He ate breakfast like a semi-normal human being, head down and silent, trying not to garner any attention. When everyone else had left, he waited by the<br/>doorframe patiently, and sure enough, 13 appeared.</p><p>When he saw Pete approach and sit down, he laughed in spite of himself, but didn't look up from his plate.</p><p>“<em>Guten tag, Dreizehn,</em>” Pete said, even though he knew his pronunciation was probably terrible. It didn't matter, though, because it was enough to make the boy lift his head and meet Pete's eyes. His face was pure shock. He took one or two deliberate, deep breaths, then spoke.</p><p>“<em>Guten <strong>morgen</strong>,</em>” he said. “<em>Nicht guten <strong>tag</strong>.</em>” He shook his head as he said this second sentence, hoping to emphasize his meaning.</p><p>Pete stared back, tilting his head. “OK. <em>Guten morgen. Danke, Dreizehn.</em>” He was suddenly glad he'd at least tried to pay attention during group when Jan interpreted.</p><p>“<em>Gern geschehen,</em> Pete,” 13 said, and Pete audibly gasped at the sound of his name coming from between those beautiful, full lips. 13 rocked back and forth ever so slightly as he ate, seeming nervous, and Pete kept his hands carefully folded in front of him as he watched him.</p><p>“I wish we could talk more,” Pete said softly. “I wish I could get to know you.”</p><p>13 cleaned his plate, drank his water, then looked at Pete and said, “<em>Verboten. Es tut mir leid.</em>”</p><p>Pete sighed and watched him leave.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>And so it went. For the next two weeks, Pete made sure to meet 13 every morning for breakfast, but refrained from going to the pool at night. He was more patient with the boy than he had ever been with anyone else. He never touched, never invaded his personal space, never pressed or got annoyed with the boy's trepidation. They sat quietly together while 13 ate, and before he got up to leave, Pete would just say, “<em>Wie heißt du?</em>"</p><p>The boy would smirk and say, “<em>Dreizehn.</em>”</p><p>Until today, Pete would smile and let it go. Today, he smirked back, taking the boy's wrist gently, and said, “Your real name. Before <em>Dreizehn.</em>” The boy looked from Pete's hand on him back up to Pete's face, eyes wide. Pete released his grip, but kept his hand on 13 where it was, then simply said, “Please. Tell me.”</p><p>13 took his arm away, not forcefully or hurriedly, just a natural motion, then piled up his dishes. He looked at Pete with a miserably pained expression. Pete tried not to let this eyes fall to the boy's mouth as he scrunched it up. Pete knew this look. He was trying to summon what little English he knew. “Gone,” he said sadly. “He is gone.” Then, 13 got up and left with his head down.</p><p>Later that night, Pete was restless, unable to find respite from the swirling thoughts of 13. <em>Hübsch, schön,</em> the boy had said. Called Pete “pretty”. 13 was the one who was pretty, beautiful, even. He wondered if 13 knew the word, if when Pete had said it, it had registered at all, meant anything to him.</p><p>He decided to get up and go watch a movie for a while, since sleep wasn't forthcoming. At least the lounge was OK for night owls in this place. <em>Can't drown on a couch, even if no one's there to supervise,</em> Pete thought with a little smirk. He found a copy of <span class="u">Tommy Boy</span> among the generally terrible choices stocked on the shelf, put it in, and closed the door so he wouldn't disturb anyone. He was so busy laughing at Tommy lighting model antique cars on fire that he didn't hear the door open behind him. He jumped about a mile and yelped when he felt more than saw someone sit down. When Pete turned and looked beside him, he saw 13 laughing at him from the opposite end of the couch.</p><p>“You scared me,” Pete said, his hand on his chest. His breath was still a little ragged, but that was quickly transitioning into excitement, rather than being startled.</p><p>13 furrowed his entire face in that way that Pete now felt like he knew, and he felt butterflies as he waited for some of the boy's broken English. “You, too,” he said softly.</p><p>“I,” Pete pointed at himself, “scare you?” then at 13 as he said this sentence slowly. He considered this, then looked back at Pete and nodded.</p><p>Now Pete was wracking his brain to come up with the phrase 13 had used at the pool all those weeks ago. “Ess... Astute marmalade... Shit...” He pressed his fingers to his forehead and squinted with frustration.</p><p>He heard 13 laughing and opened his eyes to stare incredulously as the boy unabashedly clutched his belly and let his whole body shake with the force of it. Pete was in complete wonder of this creature suddenly being so unguarded. Pete crossed his arms and wore an expression of mock-annoyance as he waited for him to calm down.</p><p>When 13 caught his breath and looked at Pete, he said slowly, “<em>Es tut mir leid.</em>”</p><p>Pete repeated it, then said, “It means 'sorry'?” 13 nodded. “Then yes. <em>Es tut mir leid.</em> That I scared you.”</p><p>13 smiled and gave an emphatic nod, then made an obvious gesture of reaching for the DVD remote. Pete nodded and handed it over, and watched as the boy turned on the German subtitles. With the wide smile still on his face, he resumed the movie, then turned to Pete and said. “Amusing.”</p><p>Pete nodded, struck with a little bit of disbelief. “Yeah, amusing. Funny.”</p><p>13 repeated, “Funny,” then smiled again. Pete could get used to this. “Funny. <em>Lustig.</em>”</p><p>Pete cocked an eyebrow. “<em>Lustig?</em> Funny? Amusing?” He pointed at the movie. 13 nodded. Pete turned his body so he was facing the boy, then propped an elbow on the back of the couch and leaned his head on his hand. "<em>Dreizehn,</em> I could teach you. If you want.”</p><p>“English?” he said, his voice hopeful. Pete nodded, and he knew he couldn't help the dreamy look on his face. 13 seemed to be trying to ignore it as he pointed back to Pete and said, “<em>Deutsch?</em>”</p><p>“Dutch?” Pete asked, confused.<br/>13 chuckled sharply and shook his head, then said, “German,” in an annoyed tone.</p><p>“Deal,” Pete said and held out his free hand to shake.</p><p>13's eyes darted from the extended hand back to Pete's face, He just gave one short nod, said, “<em>Gut,</em>” then turned back to the movie, drawing his knees up and hugging them against himself.</p><p>Pete withdrew his hand with no small measure of disappointment. Still, this boy had agreed to keep talking to him, to teach him German, and to learn English from him. That had to be a pretty big accomplishment for someone who wouldn't tell anyone his fucking name for all these years.</p><p>******</p><p>The late-night movies in the lounge became a semi-regular thing, and way better than breakfast, even though it was only a couple of nights a week. 13 was more relaxed, more talkative (though for a while there, Marcel Marceau was looking more talkative), and even more lovely for it. Through a careful exchange of broken phrases between the two of them, they learned things like each other's favorite color (red for Pete, orange for 13), favorite foods (pizza for Pete, but 13 didn't have one since he could only remember institution food), favorite songs (“Basket Case” by Green Day for Pete, ironically enough, and “Blue Danube” for 13. Pete vowed to let him hear some stuff from this century, somehow).</p><p>One night, while they were watching <span class="u">Tommy Boy</span> again, Pete asked about how to tell someone you love them. 13's face must have flickered momentarily, because Pete said, “My parents, dude. I wanna say it to my mother.”</p><p>The boy's face became visibly pained, and he took a deep breath, then slowly, quietly, sounded it out word by word for Pete to repeat:</p><p>“<em>Ich.</em>”</p><p>“<em>Ich.</em>”</p><p>“<em>liebe.</em>”</p><p>“<em>liebe.</em>”</p><p>“<em>dich.</em>” 13's voice was wavering a bit now.</p><p>"<em>dich.</em>”</p><p>He sniffled. “...<em>Mama.</em>” 13 bit his lips back between his teeth, sniffled again, then looked at Pete and said it again as a sentence. “<em>Ich liebe dich, Mama.</em>” As he did, one tear escaped his right eye and began rolling down his cheek.</p><p>“Oh, shit, hey, I'm sorry. Uh, I mean, uh, <em>es tut mir leid,</em> man, whatever. I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm sorry.” Before he knew it, he was wiping the tear away with his thumb. 13 gasped and looked at Pete like a deer in headlights. Pete hesitated a moment, then said, “Aw, fuck it,” and moved across the couch to scoop the boy in a hug. “I'm sorry.”</p><p>For just one brief, sweet second, he felt 13 sigh deeply and go limp in his arms, but all too quickly, he brought his hands up and pushed Pete away by the shoulders. “<em>Nein,</em>” he said. “This is forbidden.”</p><p>Then, he was gone again, as quickly as ever, and Pete was left behind to pound a fist into the couch and curse again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pete tried to follow 13, but he couldn't find him, couldn't hear his footsteps. Nothing. He swore under his breath for what felt like the millionth time in the last five minutes, and went to bed.</p><p>
  <em>He and 13 were in a beautiful garden, stretched out on a blanket. They were both in t-shirts and jeans, soaking up the warm sunshine. Pete's feet were bare, but 13 wore socks, and wiggled his toes on the blanket as he sighed contentedly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Is good,” the boy said, pillowing his arms under the back of his head and closing his eyes. When he did this, his shirt rode up, exposing a bit of his smooth belly. Pete turned on his side toward him, propping his head on his hand and elbow, and touched the soft skin there. 13 hummed at the feel, and said, “This is good, too.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Pete smiled, then leaned down and kissed his soft lips. The boy put a hand on the back of Pete's head, making a pleased noise against his mouth. “Pete.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“<strong>Dreizehn,</strong>” Pete said. “Tell me who you are.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“My mind is a safe,” the boy said.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“My body is an orphanage,” Pete replied.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Not anymore.” 13 proclaimed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Not anymore.” Pete said back.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The boy pulled Pete back down for a more passionate kiss, tongues sliding together effortlessly, as Pete moved to straddle him, cupping his smooth, young face as it flushed crimson at the feel of their erections brushing against each other.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I want you,” Pete said, moving his hips against 13 to emphasize his desire.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>13 nodded. “I want you to want me,” he said. “I love it.” He moved his hips in counterpoint to Pete's, building a rhythm. He loosed a small moan as his tongue slipped out to caress Pete's bottom lip.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Pete was about to say more, but his words were lost in a strangled cry as 13 reached behind Pete and grabbed his ass, pulling them closer together, the friction too much after nothing for so long, after so much wanting and needing being tamped down all this time. Pete came in his jeans for the first time in years just as the beautiful boy underneath him threw his head back in ecstasy.</em>
</p><p>Pete awoke in his bed in Switzerland, and looked around at the white walls as he grimaced at the cooling, sticky mess in his pants. He hadn't had a wet dream since he'd emerged from adolescence and was able to get laid on the regular, and even then, it had never really been about anyone he knew. It was usually just a faceless someone, and once it had been Alyson Hannigan. He was thankful for the laundry services as he peeled off his clothes and threw on clean ones to go take a shower.</p><p>Standing naked under the water, Pete looked down at himself, and felt sudden, hot shame burst from his chest. 13 had been so sad last night. Pete had done something to make him cry, then made it even worse by trying to comfort him. It was forbidden, he'd said. But why? What had happened to this poor boy? Pete had brought up his parents last night. Not only did 13 not ask anything about Pete's family, he never spoke of his own, and that one sentence had reduced him to tears. Evidently, the idea of love, and of family, was painful. If 13 had really been here seven years, with no name, something must have happened to his family.</p><p>And worse, Pete hadn't spoken to his parents since he'd arrived here. He had no idea when he would speak to his mother, let alone tell her he loved her. He'd asked because he wanted to say it to 13, when the time was right. Shit, this kid might not even have parents, and here Pete was totally consumed with trying to get in his pants. What kind of friend was he?</p><p>He went to group therapy, but chose not to speak for the first time since he got there. “Not today,” was all he said, and Jan nodded and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Of course, Pete, only when you're comfortable. It's OK.”</p><p>After group was breakfast, and today was one of those days where Pete picked at his food and didn't really eat. Lena looked at him, concerned and said, “<em>Ça va,</em> Pete? Are you OK?”</p><p>Pete nodded, but he knew he wasn't being convincing. “Yeah, I'll be OK. Just a little sad today. It happens, I guess.”</p><p>Lena looked at him with the same pinched expression that 13 did when he was trying to translate in his head. After a minute, she nodded. “I understand. It is sad here, <em>parfois</em>. It will be better.” She nodded and smiled encouragingly as she said this, and patted Pete's hand.</p><p>He smiled wanly and said, “<em>Merci</em>, Lena.”</p><p>Her smile got even bigger as she got up, took her dishes, and kissed Pete's cheek. “<em>De rien, mon ami.</em>”</p><p>After breakfast, Pete didn't even make a semblance of leaving with the others. He sat at his and 13's table, waiting. Hoping against hope, really. When 13 of course didn't show up after an hour, Pete sighed and got up to go kill time somewhere else. On the way to the lounge, he passed by Jan's office, and he heard urgent, hushed voices speaking German. He couldn't make all of it out, but he immediately recognized one of the voices as 13. He pressed himself against the wall, out of sight, and listened, hoping for a snippet. A clue. Anything.</p><p>“<em>Was ist los?</em>” Jan asked in a tender voice.</p><p>“<em>Ich bin versucht,</em>” 13 whispered. “<em>Es ist eine Sünde.</em>”</p><p>“<em>Du magst ihn,</em>” Jan said. “<em>Es ist keine Sünde. Liebe ist keine Sünde. Er mag dich, auch. Das ist gut, Dreizehn. Liebe... Liebe ist gut.</em>”</p><p>
  <em><strong>Love is good.</strong> This kid needs to be convinced that love is good? Jesus, what the hell happened to him?</em>
</p><p>Pete wanted to know so much, to hold him and make all his pain go away, but he would have to be careful, if even Jan had not managed to convince him after all these years that love was a good thing. He left while they were still talking, determined not to steal any more of the kid's secrets if he wasn't ready to divulge them.</p><p>
  <em>I'll be patient. I'll wait. For him.</em>
</p><p>The next night, Pete sat up in the lounge, waiting for 13 so they could start their lessons like usual. After forty-five minutes, Pete thought maybe the kid had decided not to show, and he got up to leave. When he turned around, he stood in the doorway.</p><p>
  <em>Dreizehn.</em>
</p><p>Pete kept his distance, folding his arms in front of him. “I'm sorry,” he said without thinking. “I'm sorry for making you cry, and for scaring you so badly. Whatever I said, or did, I... <em>Es tut mir leid.</em> I want to be your friend.” <em>And more. So much more. But I'll start slowly.</em></p><p>“<em>Freund,</em>” he said, eyeing Pete suspiciously.</p><p>Pete nodded. “Friend, <em>Dreizehn</em>. I care about you.”</p><p>“Care,” 13 said slowly, his face dark with thought. “It's like <em>Liebe</em>?”</p><p>Pete lolled his eyes upward, considering this, then looked back at the boy and nodded. “Yeah, kinda.”</p><p>“How?” he prodded, not letting his guard down.</p><p>Pete rolled his eyes for real now, and said, “Uh, I don't know, um, I feel...” he rolled his hands ineffectively in front of himself, willing the right words to come, “warmly... about you? Um, I want you to feel happy and safe, and I wish I could make you feel better about whatever is making you so sad.” He heaved a great sigh, then looked at the boy. “Do you get that at all?”</p><p>13 crossed his arms now, saying, “That's all?”</p><p><em>NO!</em> Pete's mind screamed as he weighed his options. Apparently, his hesitation said it all, because 13's hands moved to his shoulders, hugging himself. He looked down, nodding. “No, it's not.” It wasn't a question. “Me, too, Pete. I... care... and... <em>Ich habe Angst vor Dir.</em>”</p><p>“<em>Angst</em>... Angst? You're scared,” Pete said, and 13 nodded.</p><p>“Your German is better,” he said with a wary smile. “<em>Ja.</em> Scared.”</p><p>“Why? Please tell me how I can help you. I promise, I won't hurt you. Not on purpose, anyway.”</p><p>13 frowned. “On... pupuss?”</p><p>“Like, I might hurt you by mistake, but I'd never do it on purpose.”</p><p>He shook his head, a resigned look on his face. “Vergiss es,” he sighed. “I ask Jan.”</p><p>Pete dropped his arms to his sides and blinked at the floor a couple of times, his face pained, before he simply looked up at 13. He searched his face for some form of reprieve, some sign that they were OK. Slowly, the boy advanced into the room, toward Pete, each step of his socked feet sounding like tympani in Pete's mind. 13 stopped just in front of Pete, maybe half an arm's length, then took another step, his arms still folded in front of him, and put his forehead on Pete's shoulder. “Pete,” he sighed as he started sniffling. “I am scared, Pete.”</p><p>Pete's breath hitched audibly as he loosed a small cry and immediately put his arms around him. “Oh, Thank God,” he moaned. “I'm scared, too, a little. But it'll be OK, <em>Dreizehn.</em>” 13 let himself be held as he soaked Pete's t-shirt with tears. Pete cradled the back of his head, letting him take his time. He said, “It's OK. We'll be OK, <em>Dreizehn.</em>”</p><p>After a minute or two, Pete just relishing the feel of the boy huddled against him, warm and alive, he heard 13 say something.</p><p>“Hm?” Pete said, pulling back to look at him, but not letting him go.</p><p>The boy closed his eyes, took a deep breath, crimson coloring his porcelain cheeks, then opened his beautiful ocean eyes and said, “Patrick. <em>Ich heiße Patrick Stumph.</em>”</p><p>Pete just stared back, mouth hanging open in shock.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Patrick?” Pete said, still for some reason unable to close his mouth. “Patrick Stumph?”</p><p>The boy—Patrick—nodded. “<em>Ja. Mein Name ist Patrick.</em>” He said these words slowly, deliberately, looking at Pete with fierce determination.</p><p>Pete sighed deeply, tears welling up, as he put a hand on Patrick's cheek. The boy flinched a bit, then slowly seemed to relax into the touch as Pete spoke. “Wow. That... that must have been really hard for you.” The boy nodded. “Will you tell me other things?” Pete asked gently.</p><p>“<em>Ja,</em>” Patrick said, barely above a whisper. “I need Jan.”</p><p>Pete nodded. “Tomorrow. We don't have to do it now. Come on, let's just sit. Relax.”</p><p>Patrick frowned, his face questioning. “Relax? I don't know this word.”</p><p>Pete laughed, at which Patrick narrowed his eyes. “No, you really don't know that word. It means... rest. Chill out, be at ease. Be cool,” Pete drew this word out, running a hand sideways, parallel to the ground, to emphasize his point.</p><p>“Be cool,” Patrick said. “No, I don't... be cool. Ever.”</p><p>“Well, we can work on that. Just sit with me. Tommy Boy?” Pete said, holding up the box.</p><p>Patrick nodded. “Tommy Boy,” he replied.</p><p>They sat side by side on the couch, closer than before, but still not touching. Pete noticed Patrick would occasionally throw a cautious glance his way, and he would smile back, but he never made a move. He really wanted Patrick to feel safe and in control of the situation. Their eyes met, and there was a clear question in Patrick's eyes as he looked Pete over, but one he maybe didn't have words for.</p><p>“I won't make you, or force you,” Pete said softly. “Not ever. Only if you want.”</p><p>Patrick looked off, thinking, then nodded. “If I want. If I want... what?”</p><p>“Anything,” Pete said. “To touch, hug. Anything. I don't want to scare you. I want you to feel safe with me.”</p><p>After a pause, Patrick said, “I do. I am... safe. And I am scared of this. Of you.”</p><p>“Do you think it's wrong?” Pete said, praying this poor kid didn't think that what they felt was some kind of... fucking sin, or something.</p><p>“I don't know. Jan say no. But...” His face crumpled as he drew his knees up and hugged his legs. “<em>Ich habe Angst,</em> Pete. I am scared that this is... wrong.”</p><p>“Well, I don't think it is. Love is never wrong.” Pete clenched his hands in his lap, fighting the urge to take Patrick in his arms and try to soothe him. That hadn't gone so well the first time, when Patrick wasn't the one initiating it.</p><p>“Love?” Patrick said softly, his voice cracking. He turned so his cheek was on his knee and looked at Pete. “We... You... Love?”</p><p>Pete closed his eyes and sighed, then opened them and nodded slowly. He didn't know how to explain the many subtle levels between liking someone, being attracted to tham, and loving them. He didn't want Patrick to think he wasn't serious about him, so he thought, <em>Fuck It</em>, and just went for it. “Yes. Love.”</p><p>“But, we... men, both. This is not wrong?”</p><p>Pete shook his head. “Is that what scares you? Being gay?”</p><p>Patrick's expression looked agonized, like he was trying to process both the vocabulary and the meaning behind what Pete was saying, and eventually he just covered his face with his hands, gave a broken sob, and then moved over to lean against Pete's shoulder. Pete put a tentative arm around his shoulders, and Patrick took the hand of that arm, pulling it further around him. Pete repositioned himself so he was kneeling in front of Patrick, and then properly wrapped both arms around him and just held him. After a few seconds, he felt Patrick's arms wrap around and hold him back.</p><p>“Tomorrow,” Patrick mumbled against Pete's shirt.</p><p>Pete nodded. “Tomorrow.” He rubbed circles into Patrick's back, and felt him slowly loosen and accept the touch. “Tomorrow.”</p><p>******</p><p>The next morning, after group therapy, Jan pulled Pete aside. “Get breakfast and come to my office, please. <em>Dreizehn</em> wishes to speak with us.”</p><p>Pete nodded, noting that the boy still hadn't revealed his name to the man who had looked after him for seven years. He went and gathered some food, then went down the hall to where Jan and 13 sat. (In this context, Pete couldn't help reverting to his other name, with Jan sitting right there and only knowing him as that.) Pete sat and put his plate on his lap, then waited.</p><p>13 looked back and forth between Jan and Pete, took a deep breath, and said, “Jan, I'm ready.” Jan smiled, looking a little teary, and nodded. 13 started speaking, slowly and deliberately, so Jan could keep up and interpret into English.</p><p>“<em><strong>My name is Patrick Martin Stumph. I am almost eighteen years old, and I come from a small village near Bern. Before I came here seven years ago, I was in almost every way a normal little boy. I went to school, got good marks, had a few friends, and I sang in the church and school choirs.</strong></em>”</p><p>“You sing? I'd love to hear that,” Pete said dreamily.</p><p>“<em><strong>Don't interrupt.</strong></em>”</p><p>“Sorry,” Pete said in a way that indicated he probably really wasn't.</p><p>Patrick smiled and went on. “<strong><em>But, of course, I was at an age where most boys begin noticing pretty girls, having first crushes, and such. I was very confused, because I did not notice girls, but I noticed that one of my friends, a boy named Karl, was very beautiful to me. When I tried</em> to tell him, he...</strong>” Patrick paused, sniffling and swallowing hard.</p><p>Pete unthinkingly reached out and took his hand, nearly toppling his plate. He put it aside and knelt in front of the boy. “It's OK, Patrick. Take your time.”</p><p>Patrick nodded, then went on, with Jan interpreting, head down and eyes closed. “<strong><em>When I told him, he beat me quite badly and said I was a sinner. The school sent me home to my parents, and when I told them what had happened, they locked me in a closet and told me that I was...damned. Condemned, unless I begged God to rid me of these urges. I prayed and prayed for days, and they kept me closed up in there, giving me only bread and water, and told me I needed to purify myself so God would forgive me.</em></strong></p><p>“<em><strong>When they made me go back to school, I sat alone, and I did not speak to anyone, not even my old friends. They stayed away from me, and looked at me with hatred. But when I saw Karl, I knew that I was not rid of these feelings. Even though he had hurt me, I still thought his face was more beautiful than any girl. And that's when I decided these feelings must be wrong, if I could still love someone who had hurt me so badly.</strong></em></p><p>“<em><strong>So I went home to my parents and locked myself back in the closet of my own accord. One night, when I passed out from exhaustion, they took me from the closet and brought me here. No note, no explanation to me or to Jan. And here I have lived since then, hoping I could be forgiven if I just remained alone, away from temptation.</strong></em>”</p><p>Patrick opened his eyes and looked at Pete. “<em><strong>Then, I met you, Pete. You were beautiful. Ever so much more than Karl or anyone I have ever seen. You were free, happy with yourself and your body, and you made everything seem so... easy and natural. I thought you were an agent of the Devil sent to test me.</strong></em></p><p>“<em><strong>So I prayed. I prayed that you would leave me, and I would be free of my sinful urges, because if I could be strong and resist you, Pete, I could resist anyone. But you would not leave me. And you were... you were patient, and kind, and you never ever made me do anything I did not wish to do. You were caring, and you put me ahead of yourself.</strong></em></p><p>“<em><strong>And I thought that this is exactly how Love is described by Paul in the Bible. How could someone who is so kind, so very good, possibly be an agent of Satan? You were never forceful or harmful to me. You made me feel happy and safe in a way I have not felt around anyone since I was a little boy. I suppose I realized that the ones who would be hateful and cruel to me for being different must be wrong, and that someone who was warm and nice and patient must be right, and good.</strong></em></p><p>“<em><strong>You... both of you did something no one else ever did for me. You gave me a choice, and let me decide what was right for myself, without ever judging me or making me feel like I was wrong, or bad, or broken. Even my own parents didn't want me, because they thought I was broken, defective, not good enough.</strong></em>” Patrick stopped, finally, as he broke down crying, a physical manifestation of the break in the emotional dam that had been built up over the years.</p><p>Pete was unable to stop himself from collecting Patrick in a hug, crying himself. “<em>Es tut mir leid, Patrick. Du ist gut, und ich liebe dich.</em> I never wanted to say that to my mom. Just to you."</p><p>Patrick laughed and said, "You say it wrong."</p><p>Jan gasped at Pete's grasp of German, rudimentary though it was. “Pete, that's amazing. Did <em>Drei</em>... ehm, did Patrick teach you this?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Pete said as he continued to clutch Patrick in his arms and rock him back and forth. “I've been teaching him some English, too, but nowhere near enough to say all that, obviously.”</p><p>Jan laughed and said, “That is amazing, Pete. It makes me so happy that you two found each other.”</p><p>“Me, too, Jan. You have no idea.”</p><p>It was then that Patrick spoke again. “I love you, Pete.”</p><p>Pete just held him tighter.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Pete,” Patrick said, pulling back to look at him. He frowned in thought, then looked at Jan and spoke so the director could interpret. “<em><strong>Tell me about yourself. Tell me who you are.</strong></em>”</p><p>Pete backed up a little bit, taking Patrick's hands and sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Oh God, compared to you, I'm no one.” Jan relayed this, and Patrick looked confused.</p><p>“<em><strong>That's not true. You are wonderful, Pete. I want to know more about you.</strong></em>”</p><p>“OK, but you're gonna be really disappointed, I think.”</p><p>Patrick shook his head. “<em><strong>Impossible. We are all of us flawed, but you are trying to be better. I can see.</strong></em>”</p><p>Pete smiled, bewildered, and shook his head. “Fine. My name is Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III, and I'm the son of a rich lawyer from Chicago, Illinois. That's in the Midwestern part of the U.S., up north near the Great Lakes. I'm twenty-two, and my dad sent me here because he was fed up with me always acting like a typical rich, spoiled brat. The last straw was that I, uh, I crashed my car into a tree, destroying it--the car, not the tree--and almost killing myself. I was drunk.” He dropped his head in shame as he said this last part, listening to Jan's quiet, patient voice speaking German. Patrick put a gentle hand on Pete's shoulder, encouraging him. Pete went on, “I, uh, I don't have a job, or anything, not really. I play shitty bass and write poetry and scream in a terrible band, and I've basically had everything handed to me my whole life and I took it all for granted.<br/>My dad was ashamed of me, too, and I was mad at him for it, and mad at myself for not being all the things he wanted me to be—you know, grown-up, businesslike, and successful. But, I see now that I deserved for him to be pissed at me. I was such an asshole. I was not a good person like you've always tried to be. I was stupid and self-destructive and you made me want to be a better person, Patrick. Even if I'm never like my father, I can be OK with myself because of who I am when I'm with you.” He paused and looked back up at Patrick. “Does that make sense?”</p><p>Patrick kept his eyes trained on Pete like lasers the whole time Jan spoke. When he got to Pete's question, he nodded, but said nothing.</p><p>“You deserve so much better than me. You do know that right?” Pete asked.</p><p>Patrick spoke, and Jan smiled and patted the boy's shoulder, then turned to Pete. “<em><strong>Nonsense. No one is better for me than you.</strong></em>”</p><p>******</p><p>Pete's palms sweated as he used the facility phone to dial his parents. His mother answered the phone.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“Mom?” Pete said, suddenly overwhelmed at the sound of her voice.</p><p>“Peter!” she exclaimed. “Oh, Peter, we've missed you so much! Why haven't you called?”</p><p>“I miss you guys so much, and I wanted to call, but I, uh, I wasn't ready, I guess. I don't know. Still working on all my stupid bullshit. I was... embarrassed. Anyway, look, Mom, I'm so sorry for everything I put you guys through. You've always given me everything and I acted like a dumbass all the time. You were right to send me away.”</p><p>There was a click, and then he heard his father's voice on the other house phone. “Son? Are you alright?”</p><p>“Yeah, Dad, I'm fine. I'm doing a lot better. I was just telling Mom how sorry I am for everything. You guys were right to send me here.”</p><p>“Oh, baby, I'm so glad to hear it,” Dale said.</p><p>“That's terrific, Peter,” the elder Wentz said. “I suppose you're wanting to come home?”</p><p>“Maybe, if that's what you guys want,” Pete said. “But... there's something else. Someone.”</p><p>“You met someone in a mental ward?” Dale blurted out.</p><p>Pete scoffed. “Don't say it like that. And yeah, I met someone here. His name is Patrick, and he's Swiss, and he's an incredible person whose parents abandoned him here just for being gay. He has no one, and I want him to come home with me.” He paused, looking off into the distance, as though he could see Patrick through the walls. “I love him, Mom.”</p><p>After a pause, where ostensibly his parents were having a panicked and silent conversation, Pete's dad came on and said, “Well, I don't know, Peter. We'd have to think about that. You can't just dump something like this on us. This isn't like getting a... a dog, or something.”</p><p>“I know that, Dad. And I figured you'd need to think about it. But if you won't take him, too, I'm staying here. I'll get a job and a place to live. Or you can fly us back to Chicago, and we'll get our own place somehow. I don't care. But I'm really care about him, and I can't just leave him.”</p><p>Peter snapped. “You're being ridiculous, son! Think about what you're saying! It's only been a month! You barely know this boy.”</p><p>“Well, what do you want me to do, Dad? Just leave him here by himself? He's been here since he was eleven! He needs a normal life! He deserves it! He's done nothing wrong! Please help me, Dad. I can't bear the thought of him staying here all alone any longer. And... I don't want to be away from him. Please?”</p><p>Peter sighed heavily into the line. “Fine, Peter, let your mother and me talk about this. Call us on Friday.”</p><p>Pete sighed with relief and said, “OK, Dad. Talk to you Friday.”</p><p>He went back to Jan's office. “Well?” Jan asked expectantly.</p><p>“They need to think about it. We're gonna talk again Friday.”</p><p>Jan nodded. “I think this will be very good for Patrick. He needs to see life outside of these walls. I hope they agree.”</p><p>“Me too,” Pete sighed. “Hey, can I ask a favor?”</p><p>“Of course,” Jan said, smiling.</p><p>******</p><p>When Pete joined Patrick in the lounge, he hopped over the back of the couch and bounced into the cushions next to the boy. He was startled at first, but soon devolved into giggles.</p><p>“You scare me,” he said, his hand on his chest.</p><p>“I scare everyone,” Pete said with a grin. “Hey, wanna try something new?”</p><p>Patrick went whiter than seemed possible, and moved his head back from Pete. “New?”</p><p>Pete nodded, then reached into his pocket, pulling out a deck of cards. “Yeah, something new. I'm sick of <span class="u">Tommy Boy</span>.” Patrick laughed and nodded, and Pete dealt a game of Go Fish.</p><p>They played for two hours, and Pete found out that cards were a good way to teach each other numbers, question phrases, and a few other odds and ends. Learning the phrase <em>do you have</em> for the game led Patrick to ask an important question.</p><p>“Do you have other... friends... like me?” His face was fearful as he asked.</p><p>“Um, I know other men who like men, and women who like women. I like both men and women. Things like that are OK in Chicago.”</p><p>“Do you... love others?” Patrick pressed.</p><p>“I've had sex, but I've never loved anyone like this before.”</p><p>Patrick frowned and said, “You have sex... but not love?”</p><p>Pete nodded as he thought about how best to explain it so Patrick could understand. “It's not so good, but it happens. I think sex is better with love.”</p><p>“But you don't know.” It wasn't a question.</p><p>Pete shook his head. “No, I don't know. I've never done it with someone I loved. I've never loved anyone like I love you.”</p><p>“Do you want...”</p><p>“No.” Pete cut him off sharply as he dealt a new hand. “I mean, I do, of course, I do, but....Patrick, I don't want or expect anything from you. I will only do what you want.” He put a hand on Patrick's jaw and said. “I want what you want.”</p><p>“What I want,” Patrick said, casting a thousand-yard stare as he pondered this. “I don't know what I want. I don't know how to do this.”</p><p>“To do what?” Pete asked.</p><p>“To want. I always think it is wrong to want, so I stop.” Patrick shrugged simply as he said this.</p><p>“Just like that?” Pete said, incredulous.</p><p>“Just like what?”</p><p>Pete was ready to tear his hair out. “Like it's easy? Just... to stop wanting?”</p><p>“Is hard,” Patrick said, “but I stop for many years. Is easy now.”</p><p>“So is it harder to want, now?” Pete said, his voice growing tender of its own accord.</p><p>“A little,” Patrick said, looking at his lap. “But I do. I want. I want things with you, Pete.”</p><p>Pete smiled, relieved. “Good,” he said, taking Patrick's hand. “I want, too. But I won't push or hurry you. I won't get mad if you want to go slow.” He looked at their hands, the sharp contrast of their skin tones, and switched so their fingers were woven together. “Is that OK?”</p><p>Patrick smiled, a real genuine smile, and said, “<em>Ja. Das ist OK.</em>”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two days later, Pete and Patrick had their late-night lounge date. They were watching <span class="u">Sound of Music</span>, having completely exhausted all the other available movie selections. Pete hated musicals, and this one in particular with its saccharine, goody-two-shoes vibe, but was putting up with it in exchange for the feel of Patrick leaned on his shoulder. Pete found himself rethinking his hatred even more as he heard Patrick humming along to “My Favorite Things”.</p><p>“You know this song?” Pete asked.</p><p>Patrick nodded. “Just the music. Not the words.”</p><p>Pete took the remote and paused the movie. “Patrick, will you sing for me?”</p><p>After a pause, the boy nodded again, and began. No words, just humming and la-di-da sounds. Pete thought he would keel over and die altogether.</p><p>“Oh my God,” Pete breathed. “Patrick, your voice is so beautiful.”</p><p>“Yes?” he said. “You like it?”</p><p>Pete nodded. “Yeah. I really do. It’s the best voice I’ve ever heard.”</p><p>“Best? <em>Ja?</em>” Patrick said softly. Pete could almost feel him blushing.</p><p>“<em>Schön,</em>” Pete said, smiling now that he knew the meaning of the word. “Like, the <em>schön</em>-est.”</p><p>Patrick laughed. “You are… silly. <em>Lustig.</em>”</p><p>Pete laughed, too. “I am, that’s true.”</p><p>After a pause, Patrick whispered, “Pete?”</p><p>“Hmm?” Pete hummed in response. Patrick moved to sit up, and turned himself so he was kneeling sideways on the couch, facing Pete. Pete turned himself so one leg was resting on the couch and one arm was propped on the back of the sofa, so he could look at Patrick. When he didn’t speak, Pete asked, “What is it?” Patrick clasped his hands in his lap and looked around, taking slow, deep breaths. Pete could see his pulse pounding in his neck, see the beats reflected in his t-shirt. “Are you alright?”</p><p>Patrick sighed and said, “<em>Ja,</em> I think so. Ahm, Pete, I… I want.” Pete looked at Patrick cautiously, like any slight movement might break him. He looked Pete in the eyes, very intently, and said slowly, “I <em>want.</em>”</p><p>Pete blinked and said, “Oh, want… oh.” He took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders a couple of times, and then very pointedly sat straight upright with his forearms resting loosely on his thighs. “OK. Um, go ahead.”</p><p>“What…”</p><p>Pete knew he didn’t understand. “Um, you can. Uh, do... do what you want. It’s OK.”</p><p>“Yes? I can?” Patrick started leaning forward slowly, almost imperceptibly.</p><p>“Yes, you can, I trust you.”</p><p>“OK.”</p><p>Patrick took a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself, while Pete felt the butterflies multiply in his stomach and his pulse accelerate with anticipation. Patrick moved a little closer, and leaned in, excruciatingly slowly, looking Pete’s face over and taking in the rapid breathing, the way Pete licked his lips, and the restless way his hands were clenched in his lap.</p><p>“I scare you?” he asked, a mere inch from Pete’s face.</p><p>“No. I’m not scared. I’m excited. I want.”</p><p>“Good,” Patrick said, and then finally closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against Pete’s. It was slow, chaste, and simple. Pete inhaled sharply through his nose and tried to keep still, and Patrick pulled back, biting both his lips back between his teeth nervously. He looked at Pete. “Is good?”</p><p>Pete nodded. “Yeah. Is great.” He put a hand on Patrick's face and said, “Can I?”</p><p>Patrick nodded. “Ja. Yes.”</p><p>Pete moved closer so their knees were touching, and put his hand back on Patrick's cheek. It was hot, and Patrick's face was flushed as his eyes darted all over Pete's face. “I'll go slow, OK?”</p><p>Patrick nodded, and then Pete gently kissed him, mouth closed like Patrick had done, but then parted his lips and gently took the edge of Patrick's bottom lip between his own, holding back with all his might from just tackling the boy and mauling him. Patrick pulled back and then did the same back to Pete, and just the slight change in alignment was enough to draw a whimper from the younger boy.</p><p>Pete drew back a bit, and smiled to see Patrick's eyes closed and his lips still seeking. He put a thumb on his chin and guided downward. “Open a little,” he whispered, and Patrick complied without opening his eyes. Pete tilted their heads so he could seal their mouths together properly, and slowly slid his tongue in against Patrick's. Patrick gasped, and made a small noise, but didn't pull away. He mirrored Pete, putting a hand on his cheek and let his whole mouth move in rhythm with Pete's. It was tentative and a little clumsy, but it was real, soft, and tender. It was perfect. Pete closed off one kiss and then went for another, and Patrick happily accepted it. As Pete's hand slid around to the back of Patrick's neck, the younger boy moaned and pulled back.</p><p>“Oh!” he exclaimed between hitched breaths, eyes darting down to his lap and them back up to Pete's face. He shifted on his calves and folded his arms across himself. “Pete, I... I feel...” his face became pinched as he searched for the right words. Pete didn't need the words. He could see it. Patrick's face was red, his skin was hot all over, and<br/>his pupils were completely blown wide.</p><p>“Patrick, it's OK. I know, and it's normal.” Patrick looked at him, seeming unsure, and so Pete repeated, “It's OK to feel this way. I feel it, too.”</p><p>“This... this is good? It is not a sin?” He looked close to tears.</p><p>“No, no, of course not. Frankly, I'd be a little insulted if you didn't get turned on when I kissed you.”</p><p>“What?” Patrick said, and Pete realized he was probably talking a little too fast, using too many new words.</p><p>Pete shook his head and sighed. “It's not a sin. At least, I don't think it is. Some people still do, but most people really don't anymore.”</p><p>“Not a sin,” Patrick repeated, seeming to reassure himself.</p><p>Pete paused and repositioned himself so he was hugging one knee, looking down. “I mean, I think... I think when I did it before, it was, maybe.”</p><p>“Before?”</p><p>“Before I met you,” Pete said, and rested his chin on his kneecap as he looked at Patrick. “Because I didn't love them. I think maybe that was wrong of me.”</p><p>“But now is not, because we... we...” Patrick seemed to struggle to find the phrase he wanted.<br/> </p><p>“Because we are in love,” Pete said softly, cupping Patrick's jaw and trailing a thumb over his gorgeous, full lower lip. “I don't think it is a sin to feel like this with someone you love in this way.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” Patrick asked, his voice small and frightened.</p><p>Pete shook his head. “No, I'm not. But I think that... God, or whoever, wants us to feel love, and to share that with each other. I don't think that's wrong.”</p><p>“But you... did this... when you did not love?” Pete nodded. “Why?”</p><p>“I thought I could... make it into love by doing those things, I think. I mean, in English, we say 'make love' to mean having sex, but you're really not making it. You can't make it, if it's not there. I think it's... sharing love.”</p><p>Patrick took Pete's hand and said, “I am... excited for this, Pete. I want to... share love, as you say. With you.”</p><p>“Me, too, Patrick,” Pete said with a sleepy smile. “One day, when we're ready.”</p><p>“But not now?”</p><p>“No, not now. You've never done any of this before, and I don't want to go too fast. I didn't really... appreciate all those things when they happened to me, and I want you to be able to take your time and enjoy everything. Do you get that at all?”</p><p>Patrick frowned, pondering a moment, then looked at Pete and nodded. “Yes. I think I understand. It is... <em>wichtig, groß</em>.”</p><p>Pete wrinkled his nose. “It's not gross! It's actually pretty awesome!”</p><p>“No, Pete, you misunderstand. <em>Groß</em> is... it's big. Ehm, it...”</p><p>“It's important. It's special. All of it.”</p><p>Patrick's eyes lit with meaning. “I understand. <em>Wichtig</em> means this, I think. It... means a great deal.”</p><p>“Yes! That's exactly it. You're special to me, Patrick, and everything we do is... <em>wichtig</em>. Important.”</p><p>“Pete?” Patrick asked, his voice low, but not with fear. “How do you call... this...” He touched his own lips with his finger, then Pete's lips.</p><p>“Oh, um,” Pete said with a little chuckle, “we say it is a 'kiss'.”</p><p>“Kiss,” Patrick said. “I like it. We say it is a <em>Kuss</em>.”</p><p>“It's not so different,” Pete said, caressing the boy's jaw again.</p><p>Patrick moved closer. “I like... kiss you.” And with that, their mouths met again. it was better this time, more sure, and it said more to Pete than Patrick would probably ever have words for.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pete's palms were almost as sweaty as before when he dialed his parents again, this time from Jan's office as the director sat beside him for moral support.</p><p>“Hello?” came his father's familiar voice.</p><p>“Hi, Dad,” Pete said, trying to sound casual. “Uh, how are you?”</p><p>“We're fine, Peter,” his father said. “Alright, let's cut the small talk. Your mother and I have agreed to let you bring this boy home. There are conditions, however.”</p><p>Pete felt tears welling up. “Anything, Dad.”</p><p>“OK, well, of course we insist on meeting him first. We will come to the Institute at the end of next week, after the Wilson trial is expected to be over, and we'll meet with the two of you and the director.”</p><p>“That's fine. I think you guys will really like him. He's sweet, and polite, and—”</p><p>“Second, if you're coming to live with us, you both have to get steady jobs. We'll arrange a work visa for...”</p><p>“Patrick, Dad.”</p><p>“For Patrick, and help him become a citizen, if he decides to stay.”</p><p>“Oh we totally will, Dad. I want us to be able to get our own place.” He swallowed hard, voice thick with tears, and said, “Thank you, Dad. For everything. And I really am sorry about everything you've had to put up with, y'know, because of me.”</p><p>Peter sighed and said, “I know you are, son, and that's why we're willing to give this a chance.”</p><p>“OK, but I haven't told him anything yet, just so you know. I'm going to talk to him now. I, uh, just wanted permission from you first.”</p><p>After a lengthy pause, Peter said, “Well, good luck, son.” Pete smiled as the tears he'd felt building now spilled freely down his face. “Thanks, Dad. Again.”</p><p>When he hung up, he hugged Jan fiercely. “I can't believe this is happening. I... Oh God, I'm so happy.”</p><p>“Pete, this is wonderful. Come, let us talk with Patrick, hm?”</p><p>Pete pulled back and nodded, and they went to the cafeteria. It was lunchtime, and Pete's heart leapt to see Patrick sitting with the others, smiling and laughing as another boy was obviously telling some kind of joke or a story. It was like a magical forcefield around Patrick had come down, and he was suddenly in the world again, not shutting himself away.</p><p><em>Such a beautiful person should never be hidden away from the world,</em> Pete thought as he approached.</p><p>When Patrick saw him and Jan, and saw Pete's blotchy eyes, he stood up from his seat like a shot. “Pete, are you OK?” he asked, concerned.</p><p>“Yeah, I'm fine,” Pete said as he moved to help Patrick take his dishes. “Come on, I want to talk to you. It's <em>wichtig</em>,” he stage whispered with one hand beside his mouth, and Patrick giggled.</p><p>“OK,” he replied, taking Pete's hand. “I am ready.” The three of them sat in Jan's office, and the silence was a little thick as Pete cleared his throat and shifted in his seat across from Patrick, while Jan sat behind his desk.</p><p>“Pete,” Patrick said, reaching over for his love's hand, “Are you really OK?”</p><p>“Yes, Patrick. I'm great. I'm just... I have something really important to ask you. Um, my parents are coming here next week to see me... and to meet you.”</p><p>Jan interpreted to make sure the meaning was crystal clear. Patrick's eyes went like saucers.</p><p>“Your... mother and father?” he said. His voice shook.</p><p>Pete nodded. “Yes, Patrick. I told them I want you to come back to Chicago with me, and they've agreed to take you in.” He paused to give Patrick a moment to absorb this.</p><p>“You will take me... to your home? To America?” he said in disbelief.</p><p>“I want to, if you'll come with me. We have to get jobs, and I'm sure it'll be an adjustment, but... I want you to come home with me.” When Patrick didn't immediately understand, he looked to Jan to fill in the gaps in German.</p><p>He blinked a few times, processing the information, and then reverted to German in his excitement, and said through Jan, “<em><strong>I cannot believe you would do all of this just for me. This is so much more than I ever dreamed I would have in my life.</strong></em>”</p><p>Pete sighed and held both of Patrick's hands. “I know. That's why I'm doing this. You deserve it. It should happen to you. You deserve a life outside of here. No offense, Jan.”</p><p>“None taken,” the director said with a laugh. “I agree with you wholeheartedly.”</p><p>Patrick thought for a moment, and said in German, “<em><strong>But what if they had refused me?</strong></em> "</p><p>Without hesitation, Pete squeezed Patrick's hands and said, “If my parents had said no, I would have stayed here, somehow, to be with you. I told them that.”</p><p>“<em><strong>You would stay with me?</strong></em> " Patrick asked. His face was full of wonder.</p><p>“Of course I would. I love you.” Pete said this as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.</p><p>As before, Patrick threw himself into Pete's arms, hugging him fiercely. “I love you, Pete.”</p><p>******<br/>Pete was getting really fed up with sweaty palms by the day of his parents' arrival. He put on actual clothes, jeans and a Metallica t-shirt, and paced furiously in Jan's office while Patrick sat with his hands folded in his lap, looking down at them as though they were the most fascinating things he had ever seen.</p><p>“Pete, you are scared?” he asked quietly.</p><p>Pete stopped and looked at the boy, so small in his chair. “Yeah, a little. My dad isn't the warmest guy in the world. But don't worry, he's not mean, or anything.”</p><p>“I am scared, too,” Patrick said, barely above a whisper. “What if they do not want me?”</p><p>“That's impossible, Patrick. You're the sweetest, most gentle soul I've ever encountered. There's no way they could ever not want you.” Jan again filled in the gaps for Patrick's faltering English comprehension, and Patrick smiled at Pete like he was an angel.</p><p>“<em><strong>You speak like a poet, Pete,</strong></em>” he said in German. “<em><strong>Your words are so beautiful.</strong></em>”</p><p>“And that's why they will love you,” Pete said with a fond smile.</p><p>“If you believe this, then I will, too,” Patrick said, standing and taking Pete's hand.</p><p>When the Wentzes came into Jan's office, Dale couldn't hold back from immediately running to her son and taking him in her arms. “Oh, Peter,” she said as tears started to fall. “Peter, we've missed you so much.”</p><p>Pete grabbed her tightly and said, “I've missed you, too, Mom.” He pulled back and looked at his parents. “Both of you.” To his father, he cocked a half-smile and said, “Do we hug?”</p><p>His father made as though he were thinking, then said in a snarky tone, “I think we can allow it in this case.” And with that, he wrapped his son up in a fierce bear hug. And not even the manly pat-you-on-the-back kind. “I'm proud of you, Pete,” he said.</p><p>“Me too, Dad.” He pulled back and turned, saying, “Mom, Dad, this is...” and before he could finish the introduction, his face fell to see Patrick sitting in his chair, face in his hands, taking slow, deep breaths. He crouched beside him and said, “Patrick, <em>was ist los?</em>”</p><p>“<em>Es tut mir leid,</em> Pete,” Patrick said as he raised his face to look at Pete. “I... I... I don't mean to be so sad. I see your mother and father and they love you so, and... I...”</p><p>“Oh, <em>ich verstehe.</em> It makes you sad for your parents,” Pete concluded, and Patrick nodded. “<em>Es tut mir leid, meine Liebe.</em>”</p><p>“Peter?” Dale interjected. “You speak German now?”</p><p>Pete looked at his mom and shrugged a shoulder. “Just a little. Patrick and Jan taught me a few things. Which reminds me. This—” he stood and gently guided the boy to stand next to him, “is Patrick Stumph. Patrick, this is my mom, Dale, and my dad, Peter.”</p><p>In his nervousness Patrick shook their hands and blurted out a sentence in German. He immediately blushed and looked at his feet. “I am sorry.”</p><p>Jan rushed to intervene. “Don't be nervous, Patrick. You're doing fine. He says he is quite honored to meet you both. Mr. und Mrs. Wentz, you have yourselves a fine young man in Pete. In fact, he has been instrumental in bringing young Patrick out of his shell. He was very withdrawn and fearful of others, and would not even tell me his name, until Pete befriended him.”</p><p>“That's remarkable,” Dale said, giving Pete a look that was both befuddled and fond. “Although, now that I think of it, Pete has always had that effect on people. They love him whether they want to or not.”</p><p>Patrick frowned, and Pete knew he was processing the English and coming up with a response. He smiled and said, “Yes, this is true. He waited and waited for me. He stayed and was patient when others were not.”</p><p>Ever the lawyer, Peter put an arm around Pete's shoulders and said, “Well, my son is nothing if not persistent. But on to the nuts and bolts. I assume Pete has explained the provisions of coming to stay with us?”</p><p>Patrick shot Jan a panicked look, and Jan interpreted. He breathed a sigh of relief, then looked back and Pete and Peter, and laughed to see the son smirking comically at his father. “You look the same,” he said when they both shot him a questioning look. Patrick cleared his throat and said through Jan, “<em><strong>Pete explained some things. He said we would have to get jobs and earn our way, and I understand I will need to improve my English, as it is very limited right now. I would have it no other way. I wish not to be a burden to you or anyone. I will assist you in any way I can, as a way to show my gratitude for your generosity.</strong></em> ”</p><p>Peter made to speak again, but Dale took her husband's arm and said, “Peter, hush. I have some questions of my own. Patrick, Pete has told us that you two are... in love?”</p><p>Patrick blushed and said quietly, “Yes. I love Pete very much. He is a good man. Kind.”</p><p>“That's good. We love Pete very much, too, and we just want him to be happy,” Dale</p><p>“I want that, too. Pete should be happy.” Patrick's eyes were wet with tears as he spoke.</p><p>“Well, in order to get you into the country, I need all of your identifying paperwork. Birth certificate, any doctor's records.”</p><p>Jan cleared his throat. “I don't have any of those things. Patrick was abandoned here when he was eleven. I never had any paperwork on him. I simply let him stay because I knew he needed shelter, food... a home. He helped the kitchen staff with cooking and cleaning in exchange for staying. I told him it wasn't necessary, but he insisted.”</p><p>Jan explained in German what what was happening, and when Patrick replied, Jan's eyes went wide and his jaw slackened. He asked Patrick something, and Patrick nodded, took Jan's hand, and said, “Come with me,” to everyone.</p><p>Pete had never seen Patrick's room. It was in a corner of the building, away from the other patient rooms. “These are staff quarters,” Jan explained. “Most of them don't stay over, but I have them ready in case anyone needs them. You never know.”</p><p>Patrick knelt down, reached under the bed, and pulled out a large paper sack. His expression was tender and sad as he ripped the staples holding it shut, and pulled it open. He reached in, and slowly pulled out a pile of neatly folded clothing. Blue pants, a white button-down shirt, and a blue jacket.</p><p>Jan stared, agog, and said, “Those were the clothes I found Patrick in when he was left here.”</p><p>Patrick reached back into the bag, lip trembling, and pulled out a piece of folded, yellowed paper. He handed it to the director as he spoke in German, his voice wavering. Jan unfolded it with a sad expression, and told everyone what Patrick was saying.</p><p>“<em><strong>This is my birth certificate. It was in my pocket when my parents abandoned me here. I hid it away when you took me in, because I did not want you to call me by my name. I decided that I had failed my parents, and was no more deserving of the name they had given me than I was of their love and support, since I was an abomination, and unclean before God. So I chose no name.</strong></em>”</p><p>“Oh, Peter,” Dale said, leaning on her husband's shoulder as tears began to roll down her cheeks, “how could anyone just throw away their son like that? Pete, baby, you don't think that's what we did, do you? You do know we only wanted to help you, right?”</p><p>Peter scoffed. “For goodness sake, Dale, get a hold of yourself.”</p><p>“At first, I was royally pissed at you guys for this, I won't lie. I did think those things, Mom. I thought I wasn't good enough, never would be, and that you wanted to be rid of me. Dad, I thought you just wanted me to be like you. Another suit and tie, another American success story. I'm just not that guy, and I never will be. But until I came here, I didn't know that I was mad at myself for that, too. Like I was the one who had failed, and that's why I got so crazy. I thought if something happened to me, you guys could, like, I don't know, be rid of me?” Pete started to cry as he said these words, and Dale was on him, holding him and petting his springy hair.</p><p>“Oh, Pete, honey, we would never want to be rid of you. Ever. We love you so much.”</p><p>Peter sighed. “She's right, son. We might not always see eye to eye on everything, but I do love you. I'm sorry for ever making you think otherwise.” He patted his son's shoulder.</p><p>Pete heard Patrick crying behind him as he spoke again. “I don't know how I'm gonna make my way, but I will. And I really want Patrick to be a part of it. He deserves a better life, and I really want to give that to him.”</p><p>Dale let go of her son and went to Patrick, pulling him up to his feet. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his face, wearing a look only a mother can pull off. It was full of warmth and compassion, and she smiled through tears as she said, “Patrick, would you please come home with us?”</p><p>The boy wiped his eyes and said, “Yes, <em>Frau Wentz</em>, I am... <em>geehrt</em>.”</p><p>When Dale frowned, Jan said, “He means he feels honored.”</p><p>Pete took his hand and said, “Come on, Patrick, let's go home.”</p><p><em>Home.</em> The only word that made sense, suddenly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As the Wentzes and Patrick walked through the airport, Patrick's eyes darted around nervously at nearly every person that passed, and he clutched Pete's hand in a death-grip. He'd borrowed some of Pete's clothes for the trip, and Pete was concerned to see they were a little loose on the boy. Patrick was small anyway, sure, but he was so damned <em>thin</em>. Pete had always tried his best not to think about all the ways this kid had obviously been depriving himself over the years, but now it was staring him right in the face. This was gonna be a load of work.</p><p>“Hey, Dad,” Pete said as they passed a Starbucks. “We're gonna grab a coffee, OK?”</p><p>Peter checked his watch and said, “OK, just meet us at the gate. We have some time.” Pete nodded, and they were off.</p><p>Inside the little shop, Patrick's eyes were everywhere.</p><p>“Do you like coffee?” Pete asked.</p><p>Patrick shook his head. “I don't know.”</p><p>Pete laughed and kissed his temple, causing Patrick to look around in alarm. “Shhh, don't worry, baby. We're OK. I'll get you something really sweet. OK?”</p><p>Patrick nodded silently. Pete ordered and paid for the two of them, while Patrick looked at his feet until he heard Pete thank her, and then looked up and thanked her in German. She replied in kind with a broad smile, and Patrick smiled back at her.</p><p>Pete took the cups and handed one to Patrick. “Go slow, it's really hot.”</p><p>Patrick nodded and took a long sip, then hummed with pleasure, his eyes closed. A real smile spread across his lips, not a forced, polite one like he'd given the barista, and his cheeks pinked up almost immediately. “I like this,” he said softly.</p><p>Pete smiled back and put a hand on the side of Patrick's neck, his thumb on Patrick's temple. “Good,” he said tenderly, and kissed Patrick full on the lips.</p><p>Patrick gasped and his eyes darted back and forth. “You will... kiss... here?” he asked in a panicked whisper.</p><p>“I will kiss you anywhere you will let me,” Pete said with a wicked grin. “Don't be scared.” He waved a hand around. “See? It's OK.” Patrick looked at the other people, some passing by, some sitting reading newspapers or staring at their phones. No one had even flinched to see the two boys kissing.</p><p>“<em>Keiner merkt's</em>,” Patrick murmured.</p><p>“What?” Pete asked.</p><p>Patrick shook his head and squinted, concentrating. “No one... marks us. No one... <em>eum</em>...”</p><p>“No one... sees? Or, they don't mind?” Pete said, suddenly regretful for not having Jan. Patrick shrugged a shoulder, sighing, and then Pete took his arm. “Come on, let's go. We don't want to be late.” Patrick nodded shyly, and they went to meet back up with Pete's parents.</p><p>Patrick was a nervous wreck during takeoff. Pete suddenly regretted getting coffee just before, and offered him an Ativan, which Patrick regarded skeptically. “It helps calm you down,” Pete said, trying to reflect it in his voice. “It might make you sleepy.” Patrick looked at it for another second, then carefully took the tiny pill into his hand and swallowed it down with some water. Half an hour later, he was unconscious with his head leaned on an airline pillow, fists curled under his chin. Pete asked for a blanket, and gingerly draped it over him. Patrick instinctively tucked it over himself up to his chin, and nuzzled his head further into the pillow, melting Pete's heart entirely at the sight. He leaned on Patrick's shoulder, and was asleep himself not long after.</p><p>******</p><p>“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Chicago O'Hare International Airport. Local time is 1:30pm, and the weather is partly cloudy, fifty-five degrees...”</p><p>Pete awoke as the plane was taxiing on the runway. Patrick was still out like a light next to him. The boy's cheeks were pink and warm, his face peaceful, and Pete decided to wait before rousing him. As the other passengers started shuffling and struggling to retrieve their carry-ons, Pete just sat and watched Patrick's tranquil face and even breathing. When most of the passengers were gone, Pete gently shook Patrick's shoulder and said, “Patrick, we're here. Come on, time to wake up.” The boy's features scrunched in the most adorable way as he came up out of slumber. He swallowed hard and grimaced further, then blinked slowly and muttered something in German.</p><p>“Baby, come on. Time to go home.” Patrick blinked again and turned to look at Pete, eyes still a little glassy, then around at the plane.</p><p>“<em>Wo bin ich?</em>” he said, his voice thick with sleep.</p><p>“Come on, get up, Love.” Pete smiled and tugged Patrick's arm. Patrick rubbed his eyes with his fingers, then let Pete get him to his feet. He stood, still trying to blink off the haze, while Pete retrieved his duffel from the overhead compartment. He offered Patrick his hand. “Let's go,” he said softly. Patrick smiled, took Pete's hand, and waddled slowly after him.</p><p>Dale and Peter were waiting in the terminal. “Well, there you are,” Dale said. “We were afraid you'd gotten lost.”</p><p>“<em>Wo bin ich?</em>” Patrick said again, looking around. “<em>Träume ich?</em>”</p><p>“Patrick?” Pete said, and Patrick slowly, dreamily turned to look at him. “We're in Chicago, honey.”</p><p>Patrick's eyes drifted off into the distance. “Chicago... America...”</p><p>“That's right, baby.” Pete laughed when Patrick looked back at him and frowned. “Patrick, are you OK?”</p><p>Patrick nodded, a goofy smile on his face. “<em>Ich bin in Amerika. Wow.</em>”</p><p>Dale said, “Pete, is he alright?”</p><p>Pete laughed again and said, “He's fine, Mom. I gave him an Ativan for the flight. He's just still feeling it, that's all.” He took Patrick's hand and led him to the car.</p><p>When they got back to the house, Dale made sure the boys got something to eat, and that they were well hydrated, then left them so Pete could show Patrick around. Patrick stood in every room like it was the most incredible living room, kitchen, basement, whatever, that he had ever seen. When they got to the second floor, Pete said, “This level is for my parents.” Patrick nodded, his English comprehension returning as the sedative wore off. When they got to the third floor, Pete showed Patrick around in more detail. “This is my room,” he said, waving a hand in. When he looked where he was pointing, he frowned. “OK, and one of my beds is gone.” When he opened the little office off his room, he saw why. “Ah, because it's in here. Apparently, this will be your room.” Patrick walked in slowly, arms crossed about himself, and looked around. His eyes fell to the desk and computer kitty-cornered from the door, and Pete followed his gaze, adding, “I'll, uh, probably be in here a lot. You know, to use the computer.”</p><p>“Of course,” Patrick said. “That is OK.” He looked to the wide windows on either wall, and went over to them, ducking to look out onto the yard. “Your home is... <em>wunderbar</em>,” he said in awe.</p><p>Pete looked around, and tried to see everything through Patrick's eyes. He'd never really thought about it before; this was always just his house. The place he threw his dirty clothes everywhere, ate his dinner in front of the computer, or where he slept off his hangovers. He didn't know what Patrick's life was like before the institute, but when Patrick had said it was a small Swiss village, he imagined it not all that different from The Sound of Music, even in the 21st century. He couldn't help feeling a little like Patrick was here from another time, long ago, maybe even straight out of the Von Trapp house, or something.</p><p>More to the point, he thought of a kid locked in a closet, starving and praying for his parents to love him again, and suddenly he felt like the world's biggest shithead for all the ways he'd taken his life for granted.</p><p>He was unable to stop himself from going to Patrick, turning him around, and hugging him fiercely. “I'm gonna be a better person, Patrick. I'm gonna be better for you.”</p><p>Patrick raised his arms to return the embrace, surprise still on his face, when he said softly, “You already are. Don't be <em>lustig</em>.”</p><p>Pete laughed weakly, then said, “Come on, let's go downstairs. I have to do one thing, and then we could go for a ride?” Patrick nodded and took Pete's hand.</p><p>Having finally been given his cell phone back, Pete immediately called his buddy Gabe as they sat in the den. Patrick stared at the family photos lining the walls and the mantel. He giggled at one of a very young Pete with dreadlocks.</p><p>“Pete amigo! ¿Como estas? ” Gabe said cheerily, and Pete had to stifle a giggle at being thrown Spanish now that he was also learning German.</p><p>Pete covered the speaker and said, “Patrick, now I can say <em>guten tag</em>, right?” Patrick thought, looked at the clock, and nodded. Pete grinned and said, “<em>Guten tag, Gabe! Wie geht es dir?</em>”</p><p>“What?” Gabe guffawed. “Dude, what is that, Klingon or something?”</p><p>“Uh, no, it's German, doofus,” Pete said with an eye roll. “How ya doin'?”</p><p>“I'm the same, man. How are you?” Gabe said with a rare earnestness.</p><p>Pete sighed. “Better. Way better.” His eyes met Patrick's as he said this, and they shared a fond smile. “Hey listen, you still need help at the shop?”</p><p>“You know it. These college kids are about as reliable as feral cats, man.”</p><p>“Well, I happen to be in need of steady work, and there's someone else I'm gonna want you to meet, who needs a job, too.” Pete crossed his fingers.</p><p>“Dude, are you telling me you managed to pick up a bit of Cholula in the Swiss looney bin?” Gabe asked, sounding incredulous.</p><p>Pete scoffed. “Don't say it like that! Yes, I met someone while I was in Switzerland, OK? His name is Patrick and he's a wonderful person, and I think you'll really like him. He's not crazy. His parents abandoned him and we kinda... bonded, and I'm helping him out.”</p><p>Gabe scoffed, too. “I suspect you two have bonded, like covalently, amigo, and you don't wanna give up the sauce.”</p><p>Pete sighed. “It's not like that. I mean, like yeah, it is, but not... not really. Not yet.”</p><p>He heard Gabe chuckle before saying, “He's standing right there, isn't he?”</p><p>"Yes,” he said, smiling at Patrick and holding out his hand, signaling Patrick to come take it so Pete could kiss his knuckles.</p><p>“Alright. What are you guys up to this afternoon?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Pete said emphatically. “We slept on the plane and now we're wired for sound.”</p><p>“Well, come on down and try my new espresso blend, then. I'll pull those wires so tight you can play 'Claire de Lune' on your cojone hairs.”</p><p>Pete sighed. “Only you, man. We'll see you in a little bit.”</p><p>“You got it, baby.” Gabe made a kissy noise into the phone, then hung up. Pete chuckled and shook his head.</p><p>“Come on, a friend of mine wants to meet you.”</p><p>Patrick looked stricken again. “Friend?”</p><p>“Yeah, not 'friends' like us. Just... a pal. He owns a coffee shop and he'll give us jobs.” Patrick thought a minute, but still looked scared. “Relax, we'll make sure you don't have to talk to anyone.” Patrick loosened a bit, and squeezed Pete's hand.</p><p>“OK. I trust you.”</p><p>The entire drive from Wilmette to Chicago was a source of endless fascination for Patrick. He stared out the windows with his mouth half-open, occasionally saying “Wow”. One corner of Pete's mouth turned up affectionately as he held Patrick's hand between them.</p><p>“Gabe can be a lot. He's very.... uh, <em>lustig</em>, I guess. But he's a good guy,” Pete explained as they got out of the car outside The Venom Pump. The logo was a giant purple cobra. Patrick stared in utter bewilderment. <em>He won't lose that look on meeting Gabe</em>, Pete thought, and he was completely right.</p><p>As soon as they were inside, Gabe tackled Pete in a giant bear hug. “Pete, <em>mi corazon</em>, I missed you, buddy!”</p><p>Pete laughed and returned the embrace, then backed up and took Patrick's hand. “Gabe Saporta, this is Patrick Stumph.”</p><p>Gabe and Patrick stared at each other in wonder, Patrick craning upward at the very tall, dark-skinned man with the wide grin. Gabe whistled and nudged Pete. “Damn, brother, you know how to pick 'em.”</p><p>Pete elbowed Gabe sharply and said, “Mind your manners, would you, Saporta?”</p><p>Gabe shook his head and offered his hand to Patrick. “How's it goin', man? Good to meet ya.”</p><p>Patrick took Gabe's hand and shook, but gave Pete a wide-eyed look. “Uh, Gabe, man, his English isn't so great. Ya gotta talk a little slower.”</p><p>Gabe nodded and said, “Hello. Patrick. I'm. Gabe. It's. Good. To. Meet. You.”</p><p>Patrick laughed and said, “Hello. Gabe. I'm. Patrick. It's. Good. To. Meet. You.”</p><p>Pete leaned in and stage-whispered to Gabe, “Find a tempo somewhere in the middle.”</p><p>“OK, so word is my homeboys need jobs. Pete, I think I got work for you behind the counter. Patrick...” he trailed off with a helpless look on his face.</p><p>“Patrick has experience with prep and cleaning,” Pete said. “He can do stuff that doesn't require him talking to people. Plus, he's gonna be learning more English so that could change.”</p><p>Gabe clapped his hands. “Fair enough. Alright. Wanna start training tomorrow?”</p><p>Pete winced. “Um, jet lag might be a bitch. Give us a couple days?”</p><p>“Hey, anything for my Petey Panda and his new baby boo,” he said, kissing Pete's cheek. Pete slugged Gabe's bicep. “And have a drink. Anything you want. On the house.”</p><p>“Thanks, man,” Pete said, and the men slapped hands.</p><p>They opted for some new herbal blend tea, not really wanting to enhance the disorientation of their body clocks, and sat by a window, people-watching. After a few minutes of silence, Patrick leaned in. “He is not a friend like we are?” he asked.</p><p>Pete shook his head and took Patrick's free hand. “No, baby. You're my boyfriend. Gabe is just a... friend-friend.”</p><p>“Friend-friend?” Patrick asked. “I do not understand.”</p><p>“Like I said, Gabe is just a friend of mine. You are my boyfriend, my love. It's different.”</p><p>Patrick's face lit with comprehension. “Oh, I see. You and Gabe have never... euhm...”</p><p>Pete shook his head. “No. Gabe is married to a woman. He's not into men.” He pointed to the ring finger of his left hand to emphasize. “He just likes kissing people.”</p><p>Patrick nodded. “I see. <em>Er ist verheiratet.</em>” He said this slowly and had Pete repeat it, and pointed to Gabe and then his own finger to illustrate the meaning of the sentence.</p><p>Pete nodded. <em>Verheiratet.</em> He filed that one away for later.</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When they got back, Dale was already making dinner. Pete started to go upstairs to shower, while Patrick went straight for the kitchen. Pete changed his mind and decided to follow.</p><p>“May I help?” he asked timidly. Dale stopped and looked at Patrick, a smile playing on her lips. “I help... before...” Patrick said, trying to explain.</p><p>She kissed Patrick's cheek and said, “That's very thoughtful of you,” in a pointed voice as she looked over Patrick's shoulder at her son lingering in the doorway. Pete went to the cabinet and took plates to set the dining room table.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled affectionately, and Dale stopped to kiss his temple.</p><p>“You don't help?” Patrick asked, taking the plates while Pete looked for silverware.</p><p>Pete shrugged a shoulder as a response, but Dale cocked an eyebrow and said, “Not usually, no. I hope this will be a permanent change for the better, and not just a bid to impress our guest?”</p><p>“Yeah, Mom, I'm gonna try and help out more, assuming Gabe doesn't run me into the ground. He hired Patrick and me today to work at the coffee shop. We'll probably start next week.”</p><p>Dale practically ran over to hug her son. “Oh, honey, that's wonderful! I'm so proud of you. Both of you,” she said, looking past Pete to Patrick, who was dutifully setting plates at each chair around the table in the dining room.</p><p>While Pete and Patrick set the table, Andrew and Hillary came home. After greeting their parents, they dropped their bags in their rooms and came into the dining room. They both stopped short in the doorway, staring at the new addition to their home. Patrick blanched further and darted his eyes to Pete.</p><p>“Uh, I take it this is the infamous Patrick Stumph?” Andrew said cautiously to Pete.</p><p>“Yep,” Pete said with a grin. “Patrick, this is my brother, Andrew, and my sister, Hillary.”</p><p>Patrick shook each of their hands with a quiet, “It's good to meet you.”</p><p>Hillary said, “Pete didn't tell you about us, did he?” She smirked good-naturedly at her brother. Patrick shook his head.</p><p>“Sorry,” Pete said, not entirely sure to whom he was apologizing. “In all the excitement, I kinda forgot to mention it.” The four of them finished setting the table while the siblings filled Patrick in on everything there was to know about the Wentz family. He seemed to understand most of it.</p><p>“Pete, you play <em>Fußball</em>?” Patrick asked as everyone passed serving bowls around. When Pete looked quizzically at him, he went on, “I see photos of you like this.”</p><p>“Oh!” Pete said as the light came in in his brain. “You mean soccer! Yeah, I played when I was younger. I was offered a scholarship... ummm, that is, a university was gonna give me money to go there so I could play soccer for them, but I liked music better. I'm probably a better soccer player than musician, though.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh as he said this. The rest of the table was quiet.</p><p>“I like music,” Patrick said quietly. “I was learning before. Guitar and piano. Und I sing.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah. Patrick has a beautiful voice,” Pete said dreamily while Hillary and Andrew giggled behind their hands.</p><p>“Well, maybe you'll be kind enough to let us hear you one day,” Dale said, giving her younger children pointed looks.</p><p>Patrick nodded and said, “Of course.” As soon as his plate was full, he folded his hands and bowed his head while everyone started tucking right into their food. After a few seconds, he started eating, then looked at the rest of the table, blushing. “I am sorry.”</p><p>Dale patted Patrick's hand. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Patrick. There's nothing wrong with praying. We could probably stand to do a little more of that in this house.”</p><p>On his first bite, Patrick made a noise so obscene that even Pete blushed. Everyone stopped and stared at the boy. He looked at Dale, wide-eyed, and said, “Mrs. Wentz, this is wunderbar.”</p><p>“Quite a change from institution food,” Pete said as a way of explaining Patrick's enthusiasm, as the boy immediately began shoveling food in like he hadn't eaten in years.</p><p>“Whoa, Patrick, slow down a little. You don't want to make yourself sick.” Patrick looked up at everyone, cheeks full of food, and his face reddened even deeper. Pete smiled affectionately at how fucking adorable he was.</p><p>He swallowed (with no small amount of difficulty) and said, “I am sorry.”</p><p>“Dude, stop being sorry. It's cool. I'm just looking out for you.” He put a hand on Patrick's upper arm.</p><p>“Cool. Right. That thing I don't do,” Patrick said timidly, taking a smaller bite of food. Andrew gave a small chuckle, and Pete gave him a warning look. Andrew shrugged a shoulder and went back to eating as everyone made small talk about their day. Pete and Patrick both couldn't help noticing that Peter was silent, even for him.</p><p>Afterward, Dale stood and started taking everyone's dishes. When Patrick did the same, Dale said,</p><p>“Oh, Patrick honey, you helped set the table. You don't have to clean up, too.”</p><p>“I would like to help,” Patrick said. “It is... <em>richtig</em>.”</p><p>“Well, OK. Thank you, Patrick.” The two of them gathered everything up and went to the kitchen. Dale showed Patrick how to load the dishwasher, and he dried the remaining dishes she washed by hand. In his nervousness, he almost dropped a serving bowl, which Dale helpfully caught. Patrick looked so distraught he might cry.</p><p>“I—” he started, but Dale just hugged him and cut him off.</p><p>“Stop being sorry. You're doing just fine, sweetheart.” She rubbed his back soothingly, then pulled back and took his face in her hands. “You'll fit in just fine. Don't worry. OK?”</p><p>Patrick sighed and nodded, and then his face crumpled with emotion and he just started crying into his hands. “Thank you, Mrs. Wentz, for being so kind. You don't know me but you are... so kind to me,” he choked out.</p><p>Pete watched this exchange and again felt like such an ass for not appreciating how awesome his mom was before now. He felt tears of his own welling up, and tried to dab his eyes casually with his fingers.</p><p>“Patrick, it's our pleasure to help,” she said. “You deserve a good life.”</p><p>Now, Pete really couldn't hold back, so he turned and went upstairs, hoping to have his emotional breakdown in privacy. God, no wonder his parents had sent him off. He had everything. Literally everything he could have ever wanted or needed handed to him (apart from Patrick). And he'd pissed all over it like a spoiled brat. He felt like the worst human being in existence. Dark tendrils of old, destructive thoughts started curling through his mind as he lay crying on his bed.</p><p>
  <em>I'm no good I'm no good I'm no good I'm no good I'll never be any good I'll never amount to anything my mom and dad were right to send me away it should have been Patrick here and not me he should have everything he's good and deserves everything I don't deserve anything it's so unfair unfair unfair NOT FAIR</em>
</p><p>“Pete?” A gentle hand and the sound of his name startled him out of his self-deprecating spiral. He jumped a little and wiped his eyes, then rolled half over to see Patrick standing next to his bed. “Are you OK?”</p><p>He turned away from Patrick and sniffled. “You should be their son,” he said sullenly.</p><p>“What?” Patrick whispered, then said, “May I sit?”</p><p>Pete waved an arm toward the ceiling. “Whatever you want.”</p><p>“Pete, you are a good man. You are so kind. All of you, so kind and... <em>großherzig</em>, I... I want to say more but I don't know how. I want you to... to love you like I do. I want that you are not sad.” He put his hand back on Pete's side, and Pete immediately grabbed it in his own without looking. “I love you,” Patrick said. This brought new shudders and choking sobs from Pete.</p><p>He rolled over, sat up, and clutched Patrick in a desperate embrace. “I love you, Patrick. God, I love you so much.”</p><p>Patrick rubbed Pete's back in the same soothing way Dale had done for him, and just started humming a lullaby. Pete felt all the tension and darkness seeping out of him, as though it were a physical entity, a poisoned serum or some such thing. He went limp against Patrick's shoulder, letting Patrick's presence and energy bring him peace.</p><p>“What's <em>großherzig</em>?” Pete asked.</p><p>Patrick pulled back and stammered, “<em>Euhm</em>, it is a way of saying... very kind, good, you help, um...” He drew a heart on his chest, then spread his hands outward from it. “Uh, big... <em>Herz</em> ...”</p><p>“Big heart?” Pete said, pointing at his own chest.</p><p>Patrick nodded. “<em>Ja</em>. This is it. Pete, you help me when you don't know me. You take me to America and give me a home and... You are good. Thank you.”</p><p>“<em>Danke,</em>” Pete said, cupping Patrick's face and kissing him softly. He got up and closed his door, then sat back down and kissed Patrick again. And again, and again. Patrick whimpered against his mouth and tilted his head, slipping his tongue past Pete's lips, which drew a moan from the older boy.</p><p>“Pete,” Patrick whispered. “I want.”</p><p>Pete nodded and made room for Patrick to lie down, and then positioned himself next to him so their ankles were tangled together. He propped his head on his elbow and looked down at the younger boy. “What do you want?”</p><p>“I don't know,” Patrick said, searching Pete's face as if it held the answer. “Just... <em>Ich will mehr.</em>” He huffed a sigh as his hands fidgeted over his belly, and said, “More.”</p><p>“OK,” Pete said, taking one of Patrick's hands in his own. “A little more. But we have to be quiet.” Patrick nodded, took a deep breath, and tried to relax his body and allow whatever was going to happen.</p><p>Pete leaned down and started with a soft, gentle kiss to Patrick's mouth, then pulled back just a hair and let his tongue drift out and trace the line of Patrick's lips. In an unusually bold move, Patrick snaked his own tongue out and just brushed the tip of Pete's, then ran it along Pete's lips in the same way. It felt even better than when Pete had dreamed it. He hummed his approval, capturing his mouth fully as Patrick moaned softly. Their tongues tangled together hungrily as Pete slid a hand under the hem of Patrick's shirt. The skin was unbelievably soft, just like Pete knew it would be, and Patrick arched his body into the touch as Pete moved his mouth to trail along Patrick's jaw and neck. Pete could feel the younger boy's pulse flitting under his tongue, and when those tentative, graceful hands came up to cradle Pete's head and shoulders, he found himself sucking harder on the pulse point, taken with the need to mark this boy, take possession of him, and protect him from everyone else. Pete reached up to the back of his collar and pulled his shirt off in a fluid movement, and in doing so had to pull back so he could look at Patrick with his flushed skin and wide eyes, love bite blooming over his collarbone, looking over Pete as though he'd never seen him before.</p><p>“Beauty-full,” Patrick gasped, raising one hand toward Pete's body. “May I?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Pete said. His eyes hooded over as Patrick ran his fingertips lightly down Pete's chest, stopping to take his nipple ring between his fingers. “Pull a bit,” Pete said. Patrick looked at Pete with questioning eyes, and Pete said “Go on. Just... gently.” Patrick did, watching the flesh stretch curiously as Pete suddenly squinted his eyes shut, braced his hands on either side of Patrick, and hunched his back, bowing his head forward. He bit his lip and groaned, and Patrick let go.</p><p>“I am sorry,” he said, looking at Pete apologetically. “It hurts?”</p><p>“A little, but I like it,” Pete said with a grin.</p><p>Patrick turned his attention to the collar of thorns tattooed around Pete's neck. “And this? It hurt?”</p><p>“Yeah, stung like a bitch,” Pete said, relishing the way Patrick's hands felt running over the inked skin. “Worth it, though. I mean, I like it, so I don't mind the hurt.”</p><p>“I see,” Patrick said, continuing to trail his hands down Pete's flat abs. His eyes were wide with fascination at the tight muscles and tan skin. “You are beautiful, Pete.”</p><p>Pete brought a hand to Patrick's hem. “May I?” he asked with a cocked eyebrow. “I want to see you, too.”</p><p>Patrick's eyes lowered, away from the intensity of Pete's stare. “I am not beautiful like you.”</p><p>“Of course you are,” Pete said. He moved so he was straddling Patrick, taking some of the strain off his aching shoulders, but he was careful to stay on Patrick's thighs rather than directly on his crotch. He wanted Patrick to make that decision for himself, and to ask for it without prodding. “Patrick you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen.”</p><p>The boy looked back at Pete reverently. “<em>Ja? Ist das wahr?</em>”</p><p>“It's true, Patrick. I've never wanted to see anyone as much as I want to see you.” Pete caressed Patrick's temple. “But I won't make you. Not ever. I want what you want.”</p><p>Patrick looked off, considering this, then took a deep breath and said, “Yes, Pete. I want you to see me.”</p><p>Pete smiled widely and slowly raised the t-shirt up over Patrick's head and tossed it aside as Patrick lay with his arms at his sides, looking at Pete and obviously trying not to be nervous. Pete shamelessly gawked at all the creamy, impossibly soft skin that was now his to touch. “You're gorgeous,” he breathed, running his hands over Patrick's chest and belly. He lowered himself down and softly, gently trailed kisses over Patrick's throat, down to his chest, stopping to nuzzle his nose in the little patch of hair over Patrick's heart. When he trailed a hand lightly over Patrick's nipple, the boy arched up and gasped, then Pete saw his eyes fly open with a quiet, startled little noise. Pete did it again, this time following with a gentle flick of his tongue, and Patrick's breath hitched and he gave another surprised little <em>Oh</em>. His chest was moving in heaves as he clutched the wrist Pete was using to brace himself. Pete did it one more time, and Patrick made another mewling noise and said, “Pete, I feel...”</p><p>“That's good,” Pete said. “That's how it should feel. You're just excited. It's OK.” After a pause, he asked, “More?”</p><p>Patrick breathed in and out heavily and nodded. “Yes, more. Please.” And so Pete went back to Patrick's chest, sucking and licking while Patrick fisted the covers. When Pete brought a hand to the other nipple, working in tandem with his mouth, one of Patrick's hands flew to the obvious bulge straining in his jeans. He instinctively palmed himself while Pete worked, and in seconds Patrick was biting his lip, gasping and bucking up against the delicious pressure as Pete felt him spurt warm and damp through the fabric of his jeans.</p><p>As Patrick slowly came down, he looked at Pete. He had rolled off to the side and had a hand jammed down his own jeans, arm moving swiftly as the other hand tugged at the nipple ring. He bit his lip and started making small, low noises as his hips moved upward faster and harder. With one fierce twist, he mumbled, “God, Patrick,” and came on his stomach with a little pair of gasps.</p><p>As Pete grabbed his discarded shirt and lazily wiped up the mess, Patrick looked down at himself. “I... I, Pete... I don't...” He looked at Pete with wide, frightened eyes.</p><p>“Hey, hey, shhhhhh,” Pete soothed as he tossed the shirt aside and lay back down. “You didn't do anything wrong.”</p><p>“It is so good but... I... I don't...” Patrick searched fruitlessly for the words he wanted.</p><p>Realization dawned on Pete as he watched Patrick flounder. “You've never come before.” When Patrick looked back with his brow furrowed, Pete swiped a finger in a drop of cum that he'd missed with his shirt and said, “This. Coming. You've never done this before?”</p><p>Patrick shook his head and said, “It is very good and I want it, but... they say before that... that... <em>Es ist eine Sünde</em>.”</p><p>Pete sighed exasperatedly and flopped back onto the pillow. “Again with the sin bullshit. Patrick, this is not a sin. At all. Getting excited, feeling good like that, and coming... it is not a sin.” He turned his head to look at Patrick. “Not. A. Sin. I'm sorry that you ever thought that. The real sin is never feeling that way in your whole life.”</p><p>“Not a sin,” Patrick repeated, bringing his arms up across his body.</p><p>Pete gathered Patrick into his arms and pressed his face into the boy's hair. “Not a sin. You did nothing wrong, Patrick. You were right about something—the ones who would hate you for wanting to feel this, they are wrong.”</p><p>Patrick nodded against Pete's chest. “I think I understand.”</p><p>“This is normal, Patrick. Loving and touching and all of it is normal. Hating and shutting yourself away is not. That's wrong.” He pulled back and took the boy's face in his hands. “You should have all the love and good feelings there ever were in the world.” Pete kissed him, and said, “Come on, let's get cleaned up and go to sleep.” Patrick agreed, and went ahead of Pete to shower and put on clean pajamas.</p><p>After Pete took his shower and got dressed, they said good night and went to their separate rooms. Pete lay awake with a buzzing mind and soon was up again with the light on, scribbling furiously into one of his battered notebooks. He had no idea how much time had passed before the door to Patrick's side opened, and the boy came over to Pete. He shifted on his socked feet, looking even smaller in Pete's pajamas, which practically sagged off of him.</p><p>Pete looked up after a minute, dragged from his hyperfocus, and said, “What's wrong, Love?” He held an arm out, beckoning Patrick to sit down. The younger boy sat on the edge of the bed and curled one leg up under him as he folded his hands in his lap. As soon as he was seated, he looked at his hands and shrugged.</p><p>“Can't sleep, huh?” Pete said. Patrick shook his head. “Me, neither. I don't sleep much as it is, but sleeping most of the day like that, well...” He sighed and shook his head.</p><p>“What is this?” Patrick asked quietly as he nodded toward the notebook.</p><p>“Oh, well, um... it's... poetry, I guess? Just thoughts.”</p><p>“<em>Poesie,</em>” Patrick murmured. “I knew you are a poet, Pete. I will understand.”</p><p>“You will,” Pete confirmed, then closed the notebook and put it aside. “Come on, lie with me.”</p><p>He turned off the light, lay down, and opened his arms for Patrick to snuggle against him, his back against Pete's front. Pete brought his knees up behind Patrick's and wrapped his arms around Patrick's chest. He kissed the boy's strawberry hair and said, “You're a good person, Patrick, probably the best person... and, I wanna give you everything. I love you.”</p><p>Patrick took Pete's hands in his, over his heart, and squeezed. “You are a good man, Pete, and I want you to... to know this like I know this. I love you.”</p><p>They were awake most of the night, just holding each other in silence, before they eventually fell asleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter and Dale made sure Patrick was enrolled in English courses and was seeing a therapist regularly. Pete also resumed seeing his old therapist, and his medications were managed sharply by both Dale and Patrick. Gabe trained Pete as a baristo, and let Patrick do prep, stocking, and cleaning while he worked on his English. In turn, as Patrick's English improved, he was able to teach Pete a lot more German. Still, not wanting to overtax the poor boy, Pete worked with his own German tutor. He was fascinated with the language now. He felt like he was unlocking something about Patrick by knowing his native tongue. Pete would probably never be able to explain it to anyone, but it was a full-on obsession.</p><p>Patrick was also more able to read Pete's poetry, and Pete was getting better at explaining things Patrick didn't quite grasp. He pored over the notebooks whenever he had a free moment, parsing out meanings, and he found something new stirring in him: melodies, harmonies, chord progressions. Pete's words were not just poetry. They were <em>songs</em>. Outpourings of emotion, cries out into the universe begging to be heard.</p><p>Patrick itched to set Pete's words to music. He had heard the material from Pete's old band, and was not able to enjoy it fully. It was too harsh, and not a good fit for the incredibly heartfelt, vulnerable things Patrick was gleaning from the pages in front of him. He was eager to make something new, something more melodious that fit the type of person he believed Pete to be. Something to showcase his goodness. He never failed to be amazed at how Pete was always surprising him. He was an incredibly hard worker, and his infectious smile and terrible jokes were good for Gabe's business. Patrick also definitely noticed that when Pete put his mind to something, he excelled at it. He had a magical way of making things happen, of making people believe in things.</p><p>How else could Patrick be here, now, with more blessings piled on him than he could have ever hoped for?</p><p>Pete had been right, their love was no big deal here. Patrick watched friends and lovers of all kinds come in and out of the Venom Pump, holding hands and laughing, sharing stolen kisses and embraces. They were of same and different genders, wearing all manner of clothes, and a rainbow of beautiful skin, hair, and eye colors. His heart swelled to see such joy. He saw Pete smile and treat each one as a friend, shaking their hands or clapping their shoulders while he talked to them, making them laugh while he served them. And he saw the special eyes Pete saved for him, when he thought no one else was looking, or when they were alone.</p><p>As for being alone with Pete, Patrick was getting more comfortable with the physical side of their relationship. Pete was gentle and kind, never forcing Patrick to do anything, and always respectful if Patrick said he wasn't ready to move forward or didn't like something. Sometimes, Pete was happy just to be able to hold him and listen to him sing or sleep. When Patrick had questions or needed help, Pete always was honest and patient, guiding Patrick with a tender smile. Patrick knew he probably frustrated Pete sometimes with his naivete and his trepidation, but Pete never said anything cross or derisive.</p><p>And Patrick loved how easily, how smoothly the two of them just shared everything. They occupied the same place effortlessly, each one naturally fitting into each other's empty spaces, always instinctively swapping in and out of each other's movements, and finishing each other's sentences. It was like a never-ending dance of words, thoughts, and motions.</p><p>Patrick had also come to understand why Pete's relationship with his father was so difficult sometimes. Peter was a proud man, of that Patrick was sure. Reserved, businesslike, and stern, but willing to do absolutely anything for his family. He simply was not an emotional person, and this could be tough for some people to take. Pete, on the other hand, was brimming over with so much energy and affection for everyone that he couldn't help but hug all his friends, kiss their cheeks, lean all over them, and tell all of them how great they were every second. He was wide open, and it left him vulnerable to even the smallest perceived slights, but this was apparently a risk Pete was willing to take. To put it simply, Pete was love. He just... embodied it, through and through, and Patrick sometimes thought he himself would burst just from the way Pete would look at him.</p><p>Sometimes, it also meant Pete set his expectations of others wildly out of proportion with what they were able to deliver, and he often perceived his father's practiced cool as disappointment or disinterest in him. Nothing could be further from the truth, Patrick knew, but he only wished Pete could see it.</p><p>Patrick tried to pour all these feelings and observations into the song he was playing on the piano, Pete's words in front of him like a roadmap of his thoughts, his heart. He hummed a melody along with the chords, glancing at the words occasionally as he tried to fit the ones he knew into the sonic shapes flowing through his mind.</p><p>“'Trick?” Pete said, cutting through Patrick's concentration. “What is that? It's awesome.”</p><p>Patrick blushed red and put his hands in his lap. “Um, just something I've been working on. It was supposed to be a surprise.” Pete's eyes went to the notebook propped up over the keys, and his mouth fell open. Patrick followed his gaze and said, “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... <em>eum, schnüffeln</em>, to, <em>eum</em>, look at this when you weren't there.”</p><p>“Snoop,” Pete said with a smile. “You didn't mean to snoop. Or to pry. And it's OK. I don't mind you reading them.” He straddled the bench next to Patrick, who he noticed was taking up a lot more space now that he was eating more regularly. His cheeks were pink and full, and his middle was softer, his whole body warmer. Pete loved it when they were pressed together like right now, Pete's arms snaked around his belly and his chin on his shoulder. “Will you play what you have so far?”</p><p>Patrick nodded and started playing slowly and said, “I don't know how this will sound with my accent, but I will try.” Pete just nodded back in agreement and sighed contentedly.</p><p>
  <em>Walking off the stage tonight</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I know what you're thinking is</em>
  <br/>
  <em>He stands alone because he's high on himself</em>
  <br/>
  <em>If you only knew</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I was terrified</em>
  <br/>
  <em>And would you mind if I</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Sat next to you and watched you smile?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>So many kids, but I only see you.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I don't think you notice me</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Well I've seen your boyfriend and I don't think he treats you right</em>
  <br/>
  <em>That's none of my business is it?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I'm not the way you think I am, no</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I'm not the way you think I am, no</em>
</p><p>Pete lifted his head and stared, open-mouthed. Patrick's accent didn't so much sound German when he sang, but it ranged back and forth between a staunch overpronuniciation and a sexy, mush-mouthed rolling of his open vowels and his r's that sounded more like some avant-garde stylistic choice than anything.</p><p>“Wow,” Pete breathed. “'Trick, that was fucking incredible. You're incredible. Do you have any idea how incredible you are?” He grabbed Patrick's face and planted a sloppy kiss on his mouth. “With you as my songsmith, I could take over the world.”</p><p>Patrick chuckled nervously, blushing even darker. Seriously, could he be any more adorable? “But, It's not finished.”</p><p>“That's just a rough draft? That's even more incredible. Oh my God, Patrick!” Pete kissed him again.</p><p>“Pete, you are silly.” Patrick covered his face with his hands and laughed, embarrassed by the heaping of praise. “I am still not used to your kind words, sometimes.”</p><p>“I know, but you will be. I'll make sure of that,” Pete said cheerily.</p><p>Patrick fiddled with the hem of his flannel shirt. “Um, Pete, is this... that you wrote... is it um, about...” he stammered and trailed off.</p><p>“It's about how I felt when I first saw you,” Pete said softly. “I changed the words to be about more common things that fit better into a poem, like a shitty boyfriend instead of... your exact situation... but yeah. I didn't think life was treating you right, and you deserved better, and I wanted to make things better for you. And you were pretty much all I thought about and all I could see in a room full of people. And I knew you were scared of me at first, and I really didn't want you to be scared, because I'm, like, the opposite of scary.”</p><p>Patrick laughed. “No, you are not scary. I know that now.” He put an arm around Pete's back as they leaned into each other. “Do you really think we could make music together?”</p><p>“No, no that's too easy,” Pete mumbled.</p><p>“What?” Patrick asked.</p><p>“Nevermind. Yes, Patrick, my love, I think we would be awesome at writing music together.” Pete grinned widely.</p><p>“I think I am maybe missing a joke or something?” Patrick asked affectionately.</p><p>“An awful one, yes. Don't worry about it, Baby.” Pete kissed Patrick's cheek. “Come on, we have a long shift tonight.”</p><p>Patrick nodded and left the piece unfinished for now while they went to work.</p><p>*****</p><p>“Patrick? Patrick? Earth to Patrick?” Gabe sang, snapping his fingers behind the boy's head. Patrick blinked and turned from the shelf of travel mugs and pounds of coffee to see his employer looking down at him curiously.</p><p>“Something is wrong?” he asked, suddenly nervous.</p><p>Gabe laughed. “No, not at all, <em>amigo</em>. You were humming, that's all. It sounds great, but it's just... kinda loud.”</p><p>“Oh, “ Patrick said, looking down at his feet. “I am sorry. I was... bothering?”</p><p>“No, no, not really. Not yet, anyway. But I did wanna ask you, have you ever sung in front of people? You've got a killer voice.”</p><p>“This is good, right?” Patrick asked.</p><p>“Yeah, man, it's great, actually. I want you to sing at open mic night. It's, um, kind of, like, we invite people in at night and, anyone can get up and perform. And it's everything, like, reading poetry, or singing, or just playing guitar or something. Just whatever people feel like sharing.”</p><p>Patrick paused, considering and translating in his head, and said, “Pete asked you to say this?”</p><p>“Naw, man. I mean, he's definitely been saying how good you are, but believe me, I notice it too. He says you write stuff, and if you wanna do your own stuff, that's cool, but if you wanted to sing other songs, then that'd be good, too. Whatever you want.”</p><p>“What I want,” Patrick murmured. “Can I think about this?”</p><p>“Of course. It's not until Friday night.” Gabe clapped Patrick's shoulder and walked away. Truth be told, he had no doubt of Pete's ability to convince the boy to perform. Pete was kinda magical like that.</p><p>As Pete and Patrick were driving home, Patrick blurted out, “Gabe wishes for me to sing in the shop on Friday night.”</p><p>“That's awesome, Baby! I was hoping he would ask you.” Pete patted Patrick's thigh with one hand.</p><p>“I don't know if I should. I am scared.” Patrick put his hand over Pete's on his leg, and stared at it intently.</p><p>Pete huffed an affectionate laugh. “You're scared of that? You talked to me and came to the States and got a job and learned English... you did all these incredible things, and you're afraid of people hearing you sing? Like, one of the things you're best at? Didn't you say you sang in church and stuff when you were a kid?”</p><p>“That was different,” Patrick said, his voice suddenly soft and small. “I was not alone in front of people.”</p><p>“I get that,” Pete said, “but you gotta trust me. They're gonna love you. Besides, I'll be right there in the front row.”</p><p>Patrick was silent for a moment, then said, “I think this will help. I will try it.”</p><p>Pete flipped his hand over and wove his fingers with Patrick's. “I'm so proud of you. <em>Ich bin stolz auf dich.</em>”</p><p>Patrick laughed, and Pete's heart melted all over again. "I am very proud of you, too, Pete. And of me, too. Why not?" He kissed Pete's fingers, a smile on his face, and Pete thought his heart would positively burst to see Patrick so happy, so different from when they met.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Patrick paced in the back room of the Venom Pump, guitar on his back. He'd been practicing for days, Pete had heard him, and he was more than ready, but try telling that to an anxious foreign eighteen-year-old.</p><p>“I can't get calm, Pete. I'm not... cool... like you,” Patrick said, wringing his hands. He hummed the tune of the song over and over, murmuring the words quietly to himself to make sure he had them in order.</p><p>“It's OK, Baby, it's normal to be nervous. You've never done this before. Hey,” he said, taking Patrick's shoulders. “I'm gonna be right in the front, even if I have to sit on the floor. Just keep looking at me, if that helps.”</p><p>Patrick nodded and heaved a great sigh. “OK.”</p><p>They went to the main customer area, where twenty or so people sat, sipping their lattes and teas, eyes on Gabe. “Hey everyone, thanks for coming out tonight. We're opening up the microphone to a very special guy. You've no doubt seem him here, stocking shelves or wiping tables, and sure, he acts all shy, but what you don't know is this little dude is a total rockstar in the making. So, I asked him to sing here for us tonight, and he was cool enough to agree, even though he's probably pretty nervous. So everyone, please be gentle, because it's his first time!” Gabe winked at Pete and Patrick as laughter rippled through the crowd. “Anyway, all the way from Switzerland, our finest import to date, Patrick Stumph!”</p><p>There was a smattering of polite applause as Patrick made his way to the microphone. “Thank you. Um, I just learned this song two weeks ago, but I really love it,” he said softly, and Pete did indeed sit on the floor right at the lip of the makeshift stage so Patrick could see him. He gave a weak half-smile, and played a few practice chords, then began to play and sing.</p><p>
  <em>Don't go changing, to try and please me</em>
  <br/>
  <em>You never let me down before</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Don't imagine you're too familiar</em>
  <br/>
  <em>And I don't see you anymore</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I would not leave you in times of trouble</em>
  <br/>
  <em>We never could have come this far</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I took the good times, I'll take the bad times</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I'll take you just the way you are</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Don't go trying some new fashion</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Don't change the color of your hair</em>
  <br/>
  <em>You always have my unspoken passion</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Although I might not seem to care</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I don't want clever conversation</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I never want to work that hard</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I just want someone that I can talk to</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I want you just the way you are.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I need to know that you will always be</em>
  <br/>
  <em>The same old someone that I knew</em>
  <br/>
  <em>What will it take 'till you believe in you</em>
  <br/>
  <em>The way that I believe in you.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I said I love you and that's forever</em>
  <br/>
  <em>And this I promise from my heart</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I couldn't love you any better</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I love you just the way you are</em>
</p><p>Patrick's voice was sweet and soft, and Pete couldn't help noticing he changed the line “What will it take till you believe in me” to “believe in you”. Pete smiled dreamily, chin on his fist, watching Patrick's nerves melt away the more he got lost in the song. By the time he got to the end, his eyes were closed and he was swaying gently, looking occasionally to the guitar for chords, but with a reverent, tender expression, as though the guitar were his lover. Pete felt tingles growing in his chest and spreading, warm and electric, through his whole body to see this side of Patrick. It was lovely.</p><p>It was fucking <em>hot</em>. Pete was getting ideas. Wonderful, <em>awful</em> ideas.</p><p>After the first song, Patrick checked his tuning for a moment, then said, “Thank you very much. Now, with Pete's permission, I would like to play a song I wrote with him.” He looked at Pete pointedly, and Pete nodded rapidly at Patrick. “OK. This song doesn't have a name yet, but Pete wrote the words and I wrote the music.” And with that, he went into their song. His voice wavered a bit more at the beginning of this one, but as he got more into it, Pete noticed he started nodding his head and stomping his foot in time, and he suddenly became this other creature, made entirely of music, made for it. He was <em>beautiful</em>.</p><p><em>Yep,</em> Pete thought, <em>still fucking hot.</em></p><p>When he finished, the crowed erupted in applause, Pete probably the loudest, shouting and whistling. Gabe came back to the mic as Pete and Patrick made their way to the back area. “Well, I'd hate to be the one following that...” he kept talking as Pete dragged Patrick to the supply closet and slammed the door, pinning him and kissing him fiercely.</p><p>“Patrick, you were so amazing,” he growled as he made his way to the crook of Patrick's neck.</p><p>“God, the things I wanna do to you...”</p><p>Patrick was rutting shamelessly against Pete's thigh, panting his name. “Are you sure we should do this here?” he asked.</p><p>“No. That's what makes it fun,” Pete said with a wicked grin. “Will you let me?” he asked, palming Patrick's erection and hoping that that, combined with the first stage rush he'd ever had, would sway his opinion. Patrick looked from Pete's hand to his face to the walls of the closet, weighing his options. “Please, baby, trust me?” Pete had never asked for anything like this from Patrick before. He'd never needed it so badly.</p><p>Pete's hand on him felt so good, even through his jeans. He was pulsing, aching with the need to go further, the need for <em>more</em>. He nodded. “Yes, Pete, I trust you. Please,” he pleaded.</p><p>“Yesss,” Pete hissed, sliding to his knees. “But you have to be quiet, OK?” Patrick nodded his agreement, and Pete wasted no time in unbuttoning, unzipping, and pulling Patrick's jeans and underwear down to his knees, exposing his thick, straining cock. It was already leaking pre-come, blood dark with his nearly painful arousal. Pete sighed with lust, looking at it like it was the most delicious thing he had ever seen. “I've wanted to do this for you for so long,” he practically moaned. He licked a stripe up the shaft and drew a startled sob out of Patrick. “Shhhh, Baby,” he soothed, and then went down on him in earnest as Patrick bit his hand to stifle the frantic cries he desperately wanted to release.</p><p>Pete's mouth was so soft and smooth around him, so warm and wet, and Patrick had never felt anything remotely like this before. It was sending hot sparks all through his body, making his stomach clench and everything else fall away except the searing-hot pressure of Pete's tongue around the head of his cock, the need to push forward against the back of his throat, the desperate throb and ache of want. Pete took Patrick's free hand and closed it around his hair, then pulled off long enough to say, “You can pull a little if you want.”</p><p>“Pete, don't stop,” Patrick panted, and Pete smiled his mischievous smile and took him back into his mouth again as far as he could, using his hand to work the rest of his shaft. Part of him wanted to go slowly, drag it out, because he knew Patrick wouldn't last long like this, but he also wanted to steal this quick, dirty moment that was such a contrast to everything else they had done.</p><p>Patrick fisted his hand in Pete's hair as a low whimper escaped around the hand he was biting, and then Pete hummed a moan of pleasure at the feel, at how positively <em>hungry</em> Patrick was. It sent vibrations through every nerve ending in Patrick's body, heating up like wildfire. “Pete, I, ah,...” he began, but the rest was lost as he grabbed the edge of a shelf next to him and stuttered his hips at the explosion of sensation bursting through him. He felt unpinned and out of control, even a little dangerous like this, where they weren't supposed to be with Pete on his knees before him doing positively obscene things with his sumptuous mouth... Patrick could never imagine not wanting this. He squeezed his eyes shut, buried his face in the crook of his elbow, and gasped out a soft but high-pitched “Ah, ohhh, Pete” as he spilled into Pete's mouth. He twitched and spasmed as Pete milked him, swallowing and bringing him down slowly.</p><p>Patrick slid down the door until he was sitting on the floor, where Pete was already shoving a hand in his own pants. Patrick licked his palm and said, “Let me,” and then he grabbed Pete's shaft, warm and tight, and stroked him fast the way he'd seen Pete do to himself. It wasn't long before Pete had his face buried in Patrick's shoulder and a hand hooked on the back of his neck for balance as he thrusted into the touch. He whimpered as he came messily, chanting Patrick's name. Patrick grabbed some napkins from a box next to them and they cleaned up. They stood up on wobbly legs and put themselves back together, then went to make a beeline for the bathroom.</p><p>Except that they very nearly crashed directly into Gabe.</p><p>He crossed his arms, cocked a hip, and said mischievously, “You two wouldn't happen to be violating health codes in my closet, would you?”</p><p>Patrick turned absolutely purple and shoved his hands in his pockets. Pete mirrored Gabe and said, “Naw, man, of course not. We're star employees. We would never do such a thing.”</p><p>Gabe threw his head back and laughed and said, “Go home, horndogs. I'll see you guys Sunday, OK?”</p><p>“Absolutely,” Pete said, and went to clap Gabe on the shoulder.</p><p>Gabe ducked and said, “Uh-uh! I don't want your Cholula on me! Wash up and get out of here!”</p><p>He ruffled Pete's hair and said, “You're lucky I love you guys.”</p><p>“I love you too, man,” Pete said. “You're one of the good ones.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Gabe said, waving them off.</p><p>Later that night, as they lay tangled together in Pete's bed, Patrick said, “Pete?”</p><p>“Hm?” he hummed sleepily in response.</p><p>“Will you show me how to do what you did for me tonight? I want to be able to give this to you, too.”</p><p>“Oh, fuck, yeah. I can't wait to see what that gorgeous mouth can do. Just not right now. Sleepy.”</p><p>Patrick chuckled. “I did not think you would do it now. I am sleepy, too.” After a pause: “Pete?”</p><p>“Yah?”</p><p>“Was Gabe really not angry with us?”</p><p>Pete huffed voiceless laughter through his nose. “No he wasn't. Anyone else, we probably would have been in trouble, but we kinda have a Get Out of Jail Free Card.”</p><p>“Because you are his friend?”</p><p>“Because we are his friends. Don't worry. Gabe is cool, and he loves you.”</p><p>“Do you think so?”</p><p>Pete groaned in exasperation ad shook Patrick a little. “I know so. Stop worrying and go to sleep, please?”</p><p>Patrick smiled and closed his eyes. “Alright, Pete. I will trust you. Good night.”</p><p>“Good night,” Pete said with an exaggerated sound of relief. “I love you, 'Trick.”</p><p>“I love you, Pete.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Patrick awoke in the morning to find Pete on his back, stretching languidly next to him, and he took the opportunity to curl himself up against Pete's side. Pete brought his arm down around the younger boy and kissed his forehead. “Mmm, morning, 'Trick,” he said, his voice gravelly with sleep.</p><p>“Good morning, Pete,” Patrick said, then the two fell into a comfortable silence, just watching the sun filter in through the blinds. Patrick started trailing his finger in absent patterns over Pete's heart, and he said, “Last night was different.”</p><p>Pete took Patrick's hand on his chest and said, “What do you mean?”</p><p>“I don't know, it was faster, more... <em>unrein</em>.”</p><p>Pete took a moment to translate. “Unclean? Like, dirty?”</p><p>“Usually you are slow and soft with me, but last night you were just... not like that.”</p><p>Pete kissed his forehead again and said, “I couldn't help it. I just... you were so beautiful and sexy, and I wanted you so badly. I just... was a little crazy for you, I guess you could say. Was it bad?” Pete's tone was worried.</p><p>“No, um, not bad. Just... new.”</p><p>“Well... watching you and seeing you feel so free and so happy... it just made me want you even more, and I got a little out of control over you. Does that make sense?” Patrick nodded against Pete's shoulder.</p><p>“Yes. And I felt it too. I wanted you that way, too, and it was wonderful. I felt like... like you needed me, or like you needed to do what you did, just for me, and it was very nice. I'm still getting used to it.”</p><p>“I understand,” Pete said. “Some people think that—that making love can't ever be, you know, fast, hot, or a little wild like last night was, that it all has to be romantic hearts and flowers and all that shit. And don't get me wrong, that's great, and when we do have sex, like, all the way have sex, I want it to be that way your first time, and probably most of the time, but sometimes it's just... fun to mix things up, try new stuff, to be adventurous with someone you really love and trust. Just cut loose and be spontaneous and passionate. You follow?”</p><p>“I do,” Patrick said, huddling closer to Pete's body. “I think I like knowing I make you feel that way.”</p><p>“I like knowing you trust me enough to let yourself feel that way with me,” Pete said softly into Patrick's hair. “I like knowing you're not afraid anymore.”</p><p>Patrick lifted his head slowly and looked Pete in the eyes. “Not anymore. I want you to want me like that.” He blushed a little and looked away for a second, then softly said, "I love it.”</p><p>Pete suddenly flashed back to the dream he'd had in the institution. He palmed the side of Patrick's head and then rolled on top of him, kissing him passionately, and rocking his hardness against Patrick's. Patrick lifted his knees behind Pete and started matching the rhythm. Pete took Patrick's hands and guided them around to his ass, urging him to pull him closer, tighter. Their mouths were inches apart, half-open and sharing breath as they rutted against each other, the friction of their cocks brushing through the soft fabric of their clothes building, hot and steady between them. Patrick's face and neck were flushed with his arousal, and his collarbone was damp with a fine sheen of sweat. His eyes were closed and he loosed little whispering staccato <em>ah-ah-ahs</em> as his thrusts became more ragged. Just as Pete could feel his orgasm pooling low in his belly and in his<br/>thighs, Patrick snaked his hand up Pete's shirt and tugged his nipple ring, just enough for it to bite against the pleasure coursing through his body, and then Patrick threw his head back, mouth falling all the way open as he came silently, pulsing and soaking through his clothes. The whole onslaught of sensation sent Pete over the edge right after, and he buried his face in Patrick's neck and gave a choking sob as he did.<br/>“That was even better.” The words came tumbling out of Pete's sex-drunk brain before he knew what was happening.</p><p>Patrick took a couple of deep breaths and said, “Better than what?”</p><p>“I dreamed something like this would happen, right after I first met you,” Pete explained. “We were in a sunny garden on a blanket, and you said all the things you said just before I kissed you, and then we made out just like this. We were... warm, and safe, and happy. I came in my sleep like a teenager,” Pete added with a laugh.</p><p>“It was just like now?” Patrick asked.</p><p>“Almost exactly, yeah. It was really nice, but like I said, this was better.”</p><p>“I like now better, too,” Patrick said as he wrapped his arms around Pete and ignored the mess between them.</p><p>Until their bellies growled simultaneously. “Come on, <em>Liebling</em>,” Pete groaned. “Time to eat.”</p><p>They changed and went downstairs to find Dale already making Saturday brunch. “Well, good morning, lovebirds,” she said cheerily, leveling a motherly gaze on Pete. She and Peter had, for all intents and purposes, given up on the two of them sleeping in separate rooms, but they left the office made up as a bedroom to keep the pretense in their own minds. Pete shrugged off his mother's smarmy remark and laughed, while Patrick blushed furiously. Pete gathered his love against him and kissed his soft, strawberry hair, closing his eyes and breathing in the sleep-musky scent of him. He absolutely loved how Patrick was completely unable to lie or hide his feelings. He wondered how difficult it must have been for someone so tenderhearted to have buried everything for so long, how painful and lonely, and found himself hugging Patrick a little closer.</p><p>“Pete, I can't eat like this,” Patrick said with a laugh, muffled by Pete's shoulder. Pete let him go with a not-so-apologetic half-shrug. Dale piled their plates high with eggs, bacon, pancakes, and fruit. The boys ate in silence, their toes occasionally touching under the table.</p><p>Dale sat at the table with them and sipped her coffee. “So, how was the performance last night?”</p><p>Patrick's eyes darted to Pete, who took his hand and rubbed it, saying, “Patrick was phenomenal, Mom. You should have been there.” Patrick reddened further, and Pete just smiled sideways at him.</p><p>Dale smirked over the rim of her cup and said, “I'll have to catch the next one.” She put her coffee down and grabbed the paper as she absently asked, “So what's the big plan for this rare day off?”</p><p>“I wanna take Patrick to see the city. We haven't had much of a chance for sightseeing.” Pete kissed Patrick's knuckles.</p><p>“Well, I think that's a great idea,” Dale said.</p><p>*****</p><p>As they walked through downtown Chicago, Patrick continued to marvel at the kaleidoscope of different types of people wandering around, talking and shopping. As they walked past a function hall, they stopped to watch a limo pull up, and then a bride and groom got out to go into their reception.</p><p>“<em>Verheiratet,</em>” Pete murmured.</p><p>Patrick nodded. “<em>Ja. Sie sind verheiratet.</em>” He held Pete's hand tighter, and Pete squeezed back.</p><p>“Pete,” Patrick started, but Pete cut him off.</p><p>“We can't, Patrick.” He looked at the ground. “We can't get married here.”</p><p>“But I thought... You said that our love is OK here.”</p><p>“For the most part, it is,” Pete said, scuffing his toe against the sidewalk. “Most people accept people being gay and are fine with it, but... the law doesn't recognize gay marriage.”</p><p>“Can this change?” Patrick asked, looking at their hands.</p><p>“Maybe,” Pete said. “I don't know. Laws change all the time.”</p><p>Patrick looked at Pete and said, “Your father, he can change laws? He allowed me to be here?”</p><p>“It's not like that. He's a lawyer. He knows the law, and he works in the courts, but he doesn't make laws. He knows how to work with the laws we have, though. Unfortunately, there's no way around the fact that gay marriage isn't legal. Otherwise...” he trailed off and sighed as he watched the white limo pull away.</p><p>“How will I stay with you, then?” he asked, his voice quivering.</p><p>Not even caring who was watching, Pete scooped Patrick into a fierce hug. “We just have to have you become a citizen the old-fashioned way. You stay, you work, you take a citizenship test, and all that.”</p><p>“You make it sound easy.”</p><p>“It might be. It might be really hard. I don't know.” Pete pulled back and cradled the side of Patrick's head. “Come on, I wanna show you something.” He forced a smile, took Patrick's hand, and they walked on.</p><p>When Pete opened the door to the little shop, Patrick was nearly bowled over by the smell of old cardboard. “This smells like a library,” he breathed, looking around at all the posters and rows of merchandise climbing the walls. “Is all this music?”</p><p>Pete nodded as he watched Patrick's face light up. He suddenly looked impossibly young. “Yes, it is. Almost all of it.”</p><p>They spent hours leafing through records and CDs. Patrick asked about every song playing overhead, and Pete told him about as many different artists as he could. Patrick ended up with an armful of CDs, since Pete didn't have a record player (yet), and then they went to sit in Grant Park.</p><p>Patrick lay with his hoodie under his back, wiggling his socked toes in the grass. Pete sat barefoot, and he pulled blades with his toes. They both had their faces turned up to the sun.</p><p>“Is this also like your dream?” Patrick asked, pillowing one arm under his head and revealing a strip of his belly.</p><p>Pete looked him over, in awe of his beauty, and nodded. “Yeah, this was kinda like it, too. You were wearing socks, and everything.” He reached over and palmed the bit of skin Patrick was showing, and Patrick closed his eyes and loosed a low purr of pleasure. “Why do you ask, Baby?”</p><p>“You made all my dreams come true, so I wanted to be able to give you at least one of yours,” Patrick said, then opened his eyes and smiled at Pete.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Pete, man, where ya been? I haven't heard much from you!”</p><p>Pete whirled around to see an old friend standing at the counter of the Venom Pump. Patrick was mopping under some tables where a kid had spilled his hot chocolate, but he stopped to look over this person who knew Pete. He was skinny, with short, dark hair, a prominent nose, and a nasal voice. Patrick thought his accent was a little strange.</p><p>“JoeTroh! What's shakin?” Pete said as he came around the counter and gave the boy a huge hug.</p><p>“Come on over here, there's someone I want you to meet. Joseph Trohman, this is <em>Herr Patrick Stumph</em>!” Pete waved his arms grandly in Patrick's direction, while Patrick just blushed furiously and held out his hand.</p><p>“Just Patrick is fine, and it's very nice to meet you, Joseph,” he said softly.</p><p>“Oh, just Joe is fine,” the other boy said, fiddling with a ring that seemed to go... through his lip? Patrick stared at it in wonder. He caught himself, then realized he was still holding Joe's hand, and dropped both the hand and his gaze. “Forgive me, I have never seen something like this before,” he said, pointing in the general direction of Joe's mouth.</p><p>“Oh, the lip ring, yeah,” Joe said. “Hurt like a bitch, but it was worth it. Gets me so many chicks.”</p><p>Patrick smiled and looked at Pete. “I think I have heard this before.”</p><p>Pete laughed and Joe elbowed Pete's ribs. “Pete, you sly dog,” he said wickedly. “So, this is the Swiss Mister, huh?” He looked Patrick up and down, then piffled. “You look like you're about 12.”</p><p>Patrick's head shot up indignantly. “I am eighteen,” he said firmly, his eyes fierce.</p><p>“Whoa, whoa, 'Trick, easy,” Pete said, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Joe didn't mean anything by it.” He shot Joe a warning look.</p><p>Joe put his hands up. “Sorry, man. I just... don't know when to shut up sometimes. It sounded funny in my head. I really didn't mean to be insulting.”</p><p>Patrick relaxed a little. “Pete, I am going to finish this before it gets too... <em>klebrig</em>,” he said with a wave of his hand to the rapidly congealing mess.</p><p>“Alright, Baby,” Pete said, rubbing his shoulder, trying to soothe him. Patrick patted Pete's hand and went back to mopping.</p><p>Pete went and got Joe a latte, then joined him on the other side of the restaurant. “Well, songwriting with him is gonna be a blast,” Joe said sarcastically. “You really think we can start a band with someone who doesn't speak English?”</p><p>“He speaks English fine. He just forgets his vocabulary sometimes when he's flustered.”</p><p>“Yeah, and that will never, ever happen being in a band, right?” Joe said, cocking an eyebrow.</p><p>Pete scoffed. “Fucking relax. I'm gonna be the one writing the lyrics. He composes. You should see what he's done already. And I'll do all the talking onstage. Don't worry.”</p><p>“That's assuming we can get a drummer.”</p><p>“I think Hurley's available. Talk to him. He likes you better than he likes me right now.”</p><p>Joe smirked. “Yeah, that whole drunk-driving-and-nearly-dying thing. He's petty like that.”</p><p>Pete looked away. “It was stupid. Believe me, I know that now. But hey, if I hadn't, I'd never have met Patrick.” He looked across the store at the younger boy, on his hands and knees scrubbing the most stubborn remnants of the hot chocolate off the floor. <em>He deserves so much better than this</em>, Pete thought wistfully.</p><p>Joe patted Pete's wrist. “You really love him, huh?”</p><p>Pete nodded. “I do. I wish I could marry him.”</p><p>“Well, if anyone will find a way to do it, it's you.” Joe followed Pete's gaze for a moment, then looked back at Pete.</p><p>“<em>Verheiratet,</em>” he murmured, still looking at Patrick.</p><p>“Huh?” Joe asked.</p><p>Pete blinked and shook his head. “Oh, sorry. I'm, uh, learning German.”</p><p>“I thought you were possessed, for a minute,” Joe said. “And I'm no help in that department, because I'm Jewish.”</p><p>“Very funny,” Pete said, then lowered his voice. “Anyway, the kid's a natural. He plays guitar and piano, and he sings like a fucking angel. He had everyone at open mic night in the palm of his hand.”</p><p>Joe shot Pete a knowing look and said, “Including you, I bet.”</p><p>Pete smacked him on the head. “Dude, come on. I mean, yeah, I can't even lie about that, but... it's not like that, and you know it.” Patrick's word floated through his mind: <em>unrein</em>.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, you're all in love and shit.” Joe rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Yeah, I am. He's an incredible person, and he's been through a lot. His parents abandoned him at that institution when he was eleven.”</p><p>“No way. Why?”</p><p>“For being gay.”</p><p>“That's it?!” Joe said, his eyebrows threatening to disappear into his hair. Pete nodded. He told Joe the rest of the story of Patrick's abuse, and Joe let out a long, low whistle. “Shit. That's fucked up, man.”</p><p>“And just... I don't know, from the first time I saw him, I just was, like, 'This kid is special. There's something about him.' And I was totally right. He's smart, and funny, and kind, and talented, and...”</p><p>Joe waved a dismissive hand. “Alright, alright, I get it. He's the best person ever.”</p><p>Pete heaved a great sigh and looked at Patrick again, now restocking the espresso beans. “He really is. He deserves a good life. I wanna make up for all the bad things that ever happened to him. Just come to open mic night on Friday, OK? Hear him and then decide.”</p><p>“Alright, man.” Joe slapped Pete's hand in a low, lazy five. “I gotta go, but I'll see you then. Take care of yourself, OK?”</p><p>Pete smiled. “You got it.”</p><p>He went back behind the counter and started stocking filters while Patrick straightened one of the gift shelves. They didn't say anything for a while. “'Trick,” Pete finally said. “Look, I'm sorry if Joe upset you. He just has a weird sense of humor. He's a good dude.”</p><p>Patrick sighed and said, “I know. I will be OK. I just get upset very easily sometimes. Others in my family are the same.” He looked firmly at the bags of coffee in front of him and not at Pete as he said this. “It is a... thing I wish I didn't have.”</p><p>“A <em>trait</em>. A thing you have that you inherited from your family. It's called a trait. Like your hair color or eye color, or your musical abilities.” He spelled it for Patrick, and then Patrick repeated it.</p><p>“It is a trait I wish I did not have. If you speak to your friend again, please tell him I am sorry.”</p><p>“We're gonna see him Friday. You can tell him then.”</p><p>“He is coming to open microphone?” Patrick blurted.</p><p>“Open <em>mic</em>, 'Trick. And relax. Yeah I told him how great you are, and he wants to hear you sing.”</p><p>“Well, what should I sing?” Patrick asked, nervous. “He is your friend. I want him to like me, to think I am, a little cool?”</p><p>Pete threw his head back and laughed. “Babe, you are cool in your own way. Just play whatever you want, and don't worry about impressing Joe. He'll love whatever you do.”</p><p>“I think I would like to sing something off of that David Bowie CD we got.”</p><p>Pete sighed dreamily, looked around conspiratorially, then leaned in and whispered, “I think I'm gonna end up blowing you in the closet again if you do that.”</p><p>Patrick visibly shivered. “I will do this, then. Just for you. But you have to wait until we get home.” He smirked playfully.</p><p>“Well, look at you, all flirty and sh--- uh, stuff,” he corrected himself as some customers came in. “And by the way, you got yourself a deal.”</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pete and Patrick sat in the back at the Venom Pump on open mic night, and Patrick seemed to be pointedly not looking at Pete while he worked. He strummed idly at the guitar, humming the tune as a means of a last-minute rehearsal. Pete watched him, his eyes just a little glassy. He longed to praise the young man's talent with every breath, but he bit his lip because he didn't want to miss a single note coming out of that golden throat. Finally, when he seemed satisfied, Patrick put his hand flat on the strings to silence them and let his eyes meet Pete's with a clear question in his gaze.</p><p>“You sound amazing. Do I really have to wait until we get all the way home?” he asked with a pout.</p><p>Patrick, chuckled softly. “I think maybe you are based. And yes, you have to wait.”</p><p>Pete covered his mouth as a full-on guffaw tried to make its way out. “<em>Biased</em>, I think you mean. As in, of course I'm gonna say how amazing you are, because I love you. Which makes me <em>biased</em>, not 'based'.” He cradled Patrick's cheek with one hand. “Just when I think you can't get any cuter.”</p><p>“Well, I am glad my English mistakes are so amusing to you,” Patrick said. Pete furrowed his brow, unsure whether Patrick was joking or genuinely hurt.</p><p>“Everything you do is cute to me, Baby,” Pete said, figuring he should hedge his bets and not make the younger man feel even more self-conscious or nervous. He grinned widely and said, “And don't forget you were laughing at me last week for my German.”</p><p>Patrick smiled. “Yes, this is true. I am just... nervous. Both Dale and your friend Joe are out there tonight, and I wish to do well.”</p><p>“Well don't you worry about that. You're gonna be fuckin' awesome. I just know it.” Pete put a hand on Patrick's knee.</p><p>Patrick covered Pete's hand with his own and said, “If you believe this, then I will, too.” Pete knelt on the floor in front of Patrick and kissed him gently. Patrick pulled back and looked Pete in the face. “I love you.”</p><p>“Oh, Baby, I love you, too,” Pete practically whined. Patrick sighed and gave one firm nod, signaling that those words from Pete were a bolster to him. Then, they got up and went out to the front.</p><p>Gabe was chatting away into the mic, making a few jokes and gaining some smatterings of laughter. When he saw Pete and Patrick at the side of the room, he brightened up. “Well, it seems our big star is finally ready to grace us with his talents. Ladies and gentlemen, our very own Patrick Stumph!”</p><p>The applause grew louder as Patrick walked up to the microphone. “Hello,” he said shyly. “Um, this is a song I just learned so I am sorry if I do it wrong. It is called 'Life on Mars' by David Bowie, who I think is a very great musician.” Joe shot Pete a look from where he sat, but Pete just gave him a knowing look followed by a shit-eating grin. There were a few people still whispering among themselves while Patrick spoke and started strumming, but as soon as he started singing, low and smooth, the chatter immediately dropped into complete silence. Patrick held the entire audience in his thrall as he crooned softly, allowing only snippets of vibrato, and then brought them with him, higher and higher, as his voice climbed in both pitch and volume. He hit the high note of the chorus on the word 'Mars' and dragged it out powerfully and then breaking effortlessly into a trilling falsetto, there were audible gasps from the audience. Joe again shot Pete a wide eyed look, and Pete winked and gave him a look and half-shrug that said <em>I told you so</em>. Dale was rapt, eyes darting between Patrick's impassioned face and his fluttering fingers.</p><p>As Patrick let the last chord ring out, his voice fading softly over it, the entire room was silent for a good twenty seconds, before bursting into thunderous applause, complete with whoops and whistles, some of which were from Joe, who was decidedly not easily impressed. Pete felt like his chest would burst with pride. Patrick's face turned completely red as he nodded his head in a small bow of acknowledgment and said, “Thank you very much.” Then, he walked off to the back. Pete went over to his mom and Joe and beckoned them to follow.</p><p>When they met Patrick in the back room, they could still hear people clapping. “Whoa, that was pretty amazing!” Gabe said to the audience as they closed the door. Dale swept Patrick up in a hug and showered compliments on him, while Joe just bumped shoulders with Pete and told him he was right.</p><p>“I'll get Hurley in on this,” Joe promised.</p><p>Pete shook hands with him and then pulled that into a hug. “You bet your ass you will.”</p><p>When Joe was free to turn around and face Patrick, he held out a hand. “Man, that was some awesome sh-- uh, stuff. You are crazy talented.” Joe's eyes darted to Dale as he curbed his language a bit.</p><p>Patrick paused, narrowing his eyes, then cautiously said, “This is a good thing?”</p><p>Joe smiled. “Yeah, man. It's pretty fu... pretty awesome. You've got one of the best voices I've heard in a while.”</p><p>Now Patrick's face broke into a wide smile. “Thank you, Joe. That is a very kind thing to say.”</p><p>Dale kissed Pete's temple and said, “Well, I'm gonna make my way home. I'm pretty sure I'm gonna turn into a pumpkin soon.” And with that, she hugged Pete, who thanked her profusely for coming all the way into the city, and then she left the three boys to talk.</p><p>“Turn into a pumpkin?” Patrick asked.</p><p>“Yeah, like Cinderella's coach,” Pete said as though it were obvious.</p><p>“Cinderella... I don't know this.”</p><p>“Cinderella, the girl who had the glass slipper and the pumpkin coach and had to be home by midnight and married the handsome prince?” Patrick stared blankly. “Nevermind, I'll tell you later. Here's the thing. Joe and I want to start a band, with you singing, composing music, and playing guitar. Joe here plays guitar, too, and he'll probably take lead. We have a good friend who's a drummer, but we're gonna need to do some heavy convincing. He's kinda pissed... uh, angry with me. But I think he'll change his mind when he hears you.”</p><p>Joe scoffed. “Shit, yeah, he will.”</p><p>Patrick looked back and forth from Pete to Joe. “You wish to... you wish to make new music? With me?”</p><p>Pete looked at Patrick like he was just figuring out the obvious. “Uh, yeah, babe. Of course we do. People should be paying to hear you sing. People all over the world should be swooning over you.”</p><p>Joe clapped Pete's shoulder. “Pete just doesn't wanna swoon alone.”</p><p>“I have ideas, 'Trick. Big ideas. Trust me?” he asked, holding out his hand to shake on the deal. Patrick put out his hand and twined his fingers with Pete's, then kissed his knuckles. “Pete, I will trust you. You have already made so many things possible for me, I believe you can do this, too. But first I must say something to Joe.” He let go of Pete and held his hand out to Joe. “Joe, I am sorry I was cross with you. I do get angry easily sometimes, but it is just a... trait, that is in my family, and it passes quickly most of the time. I do not mean to be mean to you. Can you forgive me?”</p><p>Joe shook Patrick's hand and said, “Yeah, man, no sweat.”</p><p>As they drove home, Pete's hand rubbing anxious circles on Patrick's thigh, Patrick asked, “Pete, you say of this drummer that he is angry with you?”</p><p>Pete sighed. “Yeah, he's super pissed me, because of the accident and everything. He thinks I was careless. Plus, he doesn't drink at all, so the fact that I was drunk just makes him angrier.”</p><p>“But you only made a mistake. You are different now.”</p><p>“That wasn't my only mistake, 'Trick. It was just the biggest in a long line of fuck-ups.” Bitterness was creeping into Pete's voice. “Believe me, I wasn't a good person before I met you, and I'm not sure how much better I am now.”</p><p>Patrick folded Pete's free hand between both of his own. “Pete, you are wonderful. You have made me happier than I have ever been.”</p><p>Pete hitched a breath at these words. “Thank you, Patrick. I needed that, even though I don't really feel like I deserve it.”</p><p>“I will prove it,” Patrick said with heat in his voice.</p><p>When they got home, it was late, so the boys rushed up the stairs to their room as quietly as they could. They closed the door, and Patrick immediately took Pete's shirt and pulled it off him without a word. He pushed Pete down on the bed, straddling him and kissing him fervently. Pete fisted his hands in the younger boy's strawberry hair and whimpered into his mouth. Pete tried to flip them over, but Patrick put a hand on his chest and shook his head. He bestowed a soft, gentle kiss to Pete's mouth, and then worked his way along Pete's jaw to his ear, trailing his tongue along the shell and sucking the lobe between his lips. When he let go, he whispered directly in Pete's ear, “I love you, Pete.”</p><p>Pete's breath hitched at the sound and the feel of it, the intensity. A moan fell from his mouth before he could stop it. He ran his restless hands all under Patrick's t-shirt, over Patrick's soft, smooth back and shoulders, making him shiver. Patrick took his time, dropping soft, tender kisses all over Pete's neck, and spent extra time trailing over the collar of thorns. “So beautiful,” he whispered reverently, running his hands over the ink. “Pete, you are beautiful.” He took one of Pete's nipples in his mouth, tugging the ring in the other with his hand.</p><p>“Oh, God,” Pete whispered, his dick suddenly so full he could hardly see straight. “God, Patrick.” Pete scrambled to unbutton and unzip his jeans, since they were now unbelievably uncomfortable. Patrick gently moved Pete's hands away and pulled them off before climbing back up over him, still fully clothed.</p><p>Pete cradled Patrick's head with one hand and let the other drape above his head to clutch the covers. His eyes rolled back and he gasped and made the most helpless little noises as Patrick slid down his body, making full contact with Pete's pulsating cock with every move. Pete jerked his hips up against Patrick's belly, his chest, his neck, the lower he moved. Patrick knelt on the floor between Pete's thighs, looking up at Pete with such complete adoration that Pete was just awestruck. Patrick removed Pete's underwear and looked into to his eyes, silently asking the question even though they both already knew the answer.</p><p>“Oh God, yeah,” Pete panted as he propped himself up on his hands. “I'll teach you. Don't worry. I should warn you, it doesn't taste great, but you get used to it.”</p><p>“You forget, I ate in an institution for seven years,” Patrick said with a smirk, and Pete huffed a laugh through his nose and smiled affectionately. Patrick ran his hands up Pete's thighs, then let one slide up Pete's shaft, stroking a few times. His eyes never left Pete's. With just the faintest flicker of trepidation, he let his pretty, pink tongue slip out and trace a thin line up the length. Pete's eyes hooded as he hitched a breath. When he got to Pete's leaking head, he rolled his tongue around it and let his fingers dance, feather-light, up and down. He teased Pete for a few minutes, just caressing and licking, while Pete fought every instinct that wanted to grab Patrick's head and seal that young, innocent mouth around his dick, already twitching and aching for more.</p><p>Pete took Patrick's hand and tightened it around himself, stroking tight and slow, and said, “Here, when you use your mouth, try to meet your hand and move them together. Yeah?” He gave a nod, and Patrick returned it in kind. Then, Patrick opened his mouth and put it slowly, gingerly around Pete's swollen cock, and then tentatively started moving it, and his hand, setting a rhythm. “Oh, my God, Patrick,” Pete whispered, “You were fucking made for this.” He brought a hand to Patrick's cheek and ran a thumb along the corner of his mouth, which was swollen and positively sinful looking wrapped around him. It took all Pete's force to hold back from thrusting into his mouth, from just letting go and losing himself in the positively glorious wet heat of Patrick's mouth, the skillful way he pressed his tongue against the head and drank Pete down like cold water on a hot day. Pete felt everything tightening up below his waist, felt the hot electric tingles starting in the base of his spine, and he took Patrick's free hand and guided it behind his balls, and took two fingers and had him massage the spot in quick little circles.</p><p>“Ah, oh God,” Pete spat out, trying to keep his voice low. “Yeah, just like that, Oh God, Patrick, God, Oh my God, Baby, I'm... I... Ohhhhh...” and then Pete was spilling into Patrick's mouth, head thrown back and eyes squinted shut. Patrick stayed with him, swallowing with a grimace and then pulling off to stroke Pete through the aftershocks. Pete was still gasping and giving little growls of satisfaction as he flopped back into the bed. “Patrick, that was incredible,” he managed.</p><p>He repositioned on the bed and then held his arms up, beckoning Patrick. “Come here.”</p><p>Patrick stood and looked down at himself, seeming suddenly very unsure. “Should I... undress? He fiddled with the hem of his polo.</p><p>“Whatever you want, Love,” Pete said. Worry was creeping in as he watched the boy falter. “Are you alright?”</p><p>Patrick didn't answer. He stripped off his jeans and shirt and put on pajamas, then looked at Pete, but still didn't speak. Pete got up and went over to him, then put one hand on his hip and put a finger under Patrick's chin. “Patrick, talk to me. What's wrong?”</p><p>“I don't know,” he said softly, averting his eyes away. “I feel... <em>seltsam</em>. Maybe I was not ready to do this.”</p><p>Pete sighed heavily and winced, pulling Patrick into a hug. “Baby, I'm sorry. I... I wish I knew what to say. I... God, I love you so much. You know you don't ever have to do anything you don't want to do, right? I mean, I'll tell you, I loved it and you were so perfect, but if you didn't like it, we never have to do that again.”</p><p>Patrick slowly raised his arms to return Pete's embrace. “I know. I think maybe this was just a little... a little too much for me. I will be OK.” His tone wasn't incredibly reassuring to Pete, who just held him tighter.</p><p>“Well, why did you do it, then?” Pete asked into Patrick's shoulder. “You could have said you didn't feel ready.”</p><p>Patrick sighed heavily and gripped Pete's shirt in his fists. “<em>Ich weiß nicht.</em> You... you wanted it so much, and you did it for me, and I did want to. I love you very much and I wanted you to feel like I did... it seemed unfair that I not give back what you gave me. Maybe this <em>und</em> meeting Joe <em>und</em> all the talk of singing <em>und</em> making music was just... <em>überwältigend. Verstehst du?</em>” He was lapsing back into German as he spoke, his body trembling in Pete's arms.</p><p>“Shhhh, shhhh, <em>Ich verstehe, Liebling,</em>” Pete soothed, rubbing Patrick's back. “<em>Es tut mir leid</em>, Patrick. I never want you to doubt how I feel, or to feel pressured to do anything. Ever. I want what you want, remember? Only what you want.”</p><p>Patrick nodded and held Pete tighter. “I know. I thought I wanted this now, but I am... <em>verwirrt</em>.”</p><p>“I know, Love. It happens sometimes. Come on, lie with me?” Pete said, pulling back and nodding toward the bed.</p><p>Patrick nodded again, and the two of them climbed into bed side by side. They didn't touch or cuddle like usual. Pete was afraid to overwhelm the younger boy further, and Patrick was so lost in his own confusion that he just stared at the ceiling, waiting for the clarity he'd felt before. The certainty that he was on the right path, finally living a full life, one that was meant for him. It didn't come that night.</p><p>After Pete fell asleep, Patrick crept away into the other bed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“God, Patrick, God... God... God...” Pete's voice echoes around the boy as he kneels in the darkness. He can't see anything except one thin line of light along the floor, illuminating plain wooden boards that lead up to his knees, clad in bright blue pants.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Nein, nein," Patrick pleads as he reaches in front of him and finds the doorknob. He twists it frantically with both hands, but it won't budge. “Öffnen Sie die Tür! LASSEN SIE MICH RAUS!" he cries, frantically pounding on the door. “BITTE! LASSEN SIE MICH RAUS!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A male voice comes from the other side. "Sünder!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Papa! Ich bin kein Sünder!” Patrick wails, tears rolling down his face. The voice speaks again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Bete um Vergebung!" Patrick freezes when he realizes this is not his father yelling at him. It's Pete. “Verführer! Unrein! Bete um Gottes Gnade!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Pete! Ich bin kein Sünder! Öffne die Tür! LASS MICH RAUS! Bitte! Bitte! PETE!” Patrick collapses against the closet door, sobbing. “Ich liebe dich, Pete. Tu das nicht, bitte. Ich liebe dich.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then, right next to where he is resting the side of his head on the door, comes Pete's voice again. “I love you, too, Baby. Forever.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He hears Pete get up and walk away, leaving him locked in the dark. “NEIN! PETE! Komm zurück! Lass mich raus, bitte! PETE BITTE...”</em>
</p><p>“Patrick! Patrick! Wake up!” Pete shook the younger boy frantically. His eyes were open, but he flailed and pounded on Pete's chest, unseeing and calling his name. His face was streaked with tears. “PATRICK!” he yelled, finally moving his hands to Patrick's face. “Patrick, look at me! Come back to me, Baby, please!”</p><p>He finally came around and looked at Pete, blinking confusedly. He stopped screaming, but his breath was rapid and shallow, and his pulse was pounding in his neck to match the wild heartbeat fluttering under his t-shirt. They both looked down and saw Patrick had wet himself.</p><p>“<em>Es tut mir leid,</em>” he whined, his voice thick with the urge to start crying again. His face looked absolutely terrified and ashamed. “I, I'm sorry.”</p><p>Pete just hugged Patrick and rocked him gently, rubbing his hair. “I'm sorry, too, Patrick. I would never hurt you. Not ever.”</p><p>“I know. I just... I was so scared, Pete. I... I don't know why.”</p><p>“Shhhhhhh, I understand. You've been through a lot. I should have figured it all wouldn't magically go away. It's OK, Patrick. You're safe with me.”</p><p>Patrick clutched onto Pete's shoulders. “I'm so sorry to burden you, Pete. I love you so much.”</p><p>Pete pulled back and took Patrick's face in his hands again. “You are not a burden to me. I would do anything for you, Patrick. I love you.” He kissed Patrick gently, chastely, then said, “Come on, let's clean this up and go eat. OK?” Patrick nodded, although he didn't really seem very encouraged.</p><p>Pete never asked why Patrick had left him alone last night.</p><p>He took the sheets and Patrick's pajamas down to the laundry room while Patrick showered. He threw everything in the washing machine and doused it with detergent, then started the machine. While the water started filling the drum, Pete leaned his elbows on the machine, then his head on his hands, and cried.</p><p><em>Stupid so stupid so fucking stupid what were you thinking messing around with this good person and fucking him up like you always do</em>, the voice in his head taunted. <em>Making another beautiful mess just like you.</em></p><p>“Pete?” He whirled around to see his father standing behind him. “Is everything alright, son?”</p><p>“Yeah, Dad. Um, Patrick just had a bad nightmare... and um, a little accident. I think he'll be OK, though.”</p><p>Peter came closer and put a hand on his son's shoulder. “But are you alright, Pete?”</p><p>Pete stood there a moment, wiping his eyes and gathering his thoughts. “Yeah, I'm OK. I just feel bad for him. I wish he didn't go through all that shit, you know? He deserves better.”</p><p>“I know, son. I think so, too. And I'm glad to see you wanting to do for someone else like you are. For whatever that's worth to you. I'm proud of you, Pete.” He shook Pete's shoulder a little, then put his arms around him and hugged him.</p><p>Pete was completely bewildered, but he returned the hug and said, “Thank you, Dad. That really means a lot to me.”</p><p>And the voice in his head was quiet, at least for now.</p><p>Breakfast was silent, as well, and Patrick barely looked up from his plate as he wolfed down his omelet. Pete stole glances at him and noticed the high color in his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He was still embarrassed. Pete took a chance and reached over to hold his hand. Patrick relented, but didn't really hold Pete's hand in return. Still, Pete noticed a small smile playing at the corner of the younger boy's mouth as he picked at his hash browns.</p><p>He took Patrick back to the music store; it was one of the few things he knew was guaranteed to cheer Patrick up. They picked awkwardly through the offerings, but then Patrick spotted one that looked really interesting. “Pere Ubu,” he said aloud. “I like this name. You know them?”</p><p>“No, I don't. We can discover them together,” Pete said, forcing a wide smile.</p><p>Patrick smiled back weakly and said very softly, “Pete, I am—”</p><p>Pete cut him off with a thumb to his lips. “Don't. You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing. I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you, if I have to.”</p><p>Patrick gave a self-deprecating snort. “It might take that long.”</p><p>Pete stepped closer to him. “Well, I'm gonna be here anyway, I might as well spend it reminding you how incredible you are, and how much I love you. I wish you could see you the way I do, 'Trick. I... I just wanna give you everything.” He sighed in his exasperation, as every word in his brain didn't seem like enough, and then just gave in and kissed him. He was gentle, but tried to put some of what he was feeling into it. It must have worked, because Patrick sighed and put a hand on Pete's hip before breaking the kiss and pulling back to look around nervously.</p><p>“Pete...” he began.</p><p>“I don't care,” Pete said firmly. “I don't care who knows I love you, and I don't care who sees me kissing you. I want everyone to know how lucky I am.”</p><p>Patrick's eyes welled up as his face and the tips of his ears flushed red. “You are still so kind to me. I... I don't know how to thank you enough.”</p><p>Pete put the crook of his finger under Patrick's chin and said, “You already do, but you'll figure out your own ways.” Patrick gave a real smile, took Pete's hand, and went to pay for their new discovery.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Öffnen Sie die Tür = Open the door<br/>Lassen Sie mich raus/lass mich raus = let me out<br/>Sünder = Sinner<br/>Ich bin kein Sünder = I am not a sinner<br/>Bete um Vergebung = pray for forgiveness<br/>Verführer = Seducer/Tempter<br/>Unrein = unclean<br/>Bete um Gottes Gnade = beg/pray for God's grace/forgiveness<br/>Tu das nicht = Don't do this<br/>Komm zurück = come back</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Patrick had been sleeping in his own room for a couple of nights since “the incident”, as Pete had come to call it in his mind. He understood on some level, and he was absolutely willing to be patient, but he couldn't help both missing the feel of Patrick next to him, and also feeling like it was all his fault Patrick had been so badly traumatized. The voices in his head bickered back and forth like divorcing parents as he sat slumped on the edge of his bed.</p><p>
  <em>We went too fast. <strong>I</strong> went too fast and I put all this pressure on him to be normal and I should have known it wouldn't be easy. I knew we should wait and I had to go and screw it all up. But that's what I do. I'm a screw-up. I break everything I love and Patrick is no different.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Patrick's not a <strong>thing</strong>, you twit. He's not some toy or a pet. He's a fucking human being who's been through hell, and you did screw up. You have to be more careful with him. We all know waiting a month to blow someone is practically medal-worthy in your case, but you gotta remember Patrick's not like you. He's nothing like you, and he may never be. And not just in the sense of being denied all the stupidity and fun and new shit that come with being a normal teenager. He shoves things down and tries to negate them and forget them. You've witnessed it. Until you made him do it, he wouldn't even admit his name, wouldn't cop to the identity he'd walked into that fucking institution with. He doesn't wanna be that boy anymore, but he is. He has to acknowledge all of it, Pete. He has to work through it and heal and forgive himself. He looks like he's doing</em>
  <br/>
  <em>that, but you know damned well he's not.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I know, and that's my fault, too. I should have known he was in denial. I should have known he was hiding and just... I was in denial, too. I want him to be happy so badly, and I want us to be able to be a normal couple so much that I just... refused to see.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Well, do you fucking see now? You can't just wave a wand and make everything bad disappear. You can't just kiss away all his pain like this were some fucking fairy tale, you stupid, stupid, lovesick IDIOT!</em>
</p><p>Pete clutched his head and loosed a pained growl as he lifted his legs and rolled onto the bed with his back to the door, hot tears spilling down his cheeks. He heard Patrick open the door from the bathroom, smelled the shower scent pluming out, and just curled further toward the wall as tried to wrap his pillow around his head.</p><p>“Pete?” Patrick said, his voice almost inaudible.</p><p>Pete didn't answer.</p><p>“Pete?” he tried again. His footsteps were coming closer, and Pete knew he was going to sit down and try to comfort him, as though he deserved even one goddamned iota of Patrick's solace. A tentative hand fell on his shoulder, and he flinched as the tremors shaking his body turned into all out gut-wrenching sobs. “Pete, I'm sorry I've upset you.”</p><p>Pete's crying turned into barking, sarcastic laughter as he rolled onto his back and talked to the ceiling. “Hear that, God?” he said in a biting tone. “He actually fucking thinks <em>he</em> upset <em>me</em>! Nice work with that whole message of kindness and love, by the way, if the result is that the one person who fucking deserves all of it has a complete damned nervous breakdown anytime anyone actually expresses those things to him because you decided to send this perfect creature to COMPLETE FUCKING ASSHOLES !” He pounded a fist into the mattress beside him and started crying again, throwing his other arm over his eyes.</p><p>Meanwhile, Patrick leapt back toward the foot of the bed at the furious tone of Pete's voice. Pete took a deep, shaking breath and wiped his eyes, then covered his face with his hands and said, “I'm the one who's sorry, Patrick. I'm sorry for everything you went through. I'm sorry I scared you. I'm sorry I don't know how to just make all your pain disappear. I thought I could, but it's just gonna be harder than that.”</p><p>There was silence for a few seconds, the Pete heard Patrick give a small sigh, and he felt a hand on his shin. “This is not your fault, Pete. I am sorry you have to pay for the sins of people you do not even know.”</p><p>Pete sat up and brought his ankles toward himself, criss-crossing his legs in front of him. He passed his hands through his hair and then rested his forearms on his knees. “It's not your fault, either. I wanted to believe you were beyond what had happened to you, and that I... that we... but I was wrong. We're just denying it, trying to ignore it, and that's no good, Patrick. We have to deal with it and learn how to work around it. We can't pretend it didn't happen, because it did, and it obviously still affects you.”</p><p>Patrick nodded. “I have always wanted to forget things, be normal and clean, but no matter how I try, I can't get the memories to leave me.” Pete looked at Patrick's arms and saw they were bright red from scrubbing. He grabbed Patrick's wrist and trailed his fingers over the raw skin.</p><p>“Oh my God, Baby, don't do this to yourself. Bad things happening to you don't make you dirty. They just make you human. It's part of growing up and just... being in the world. Letting people in. It's normal.”</p><p><em>Unrein</em>, Pete's mind taunted.</p><p>“Pete,” Patrick said in a very small voice, “um, will you please come with me to see my therapist, next time? He would like to see us together.”</p><p>Pete took Patrick's hand in both of his and said, “Of course I will, Patrick. Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it. Anything for you.”</p><p>Patrick gave a small smile. “Thank you.” Then, to Pete's disappointment, he got up from the bed and stretched, revealing his creamy belly. Pete wanted to touch it so much, but used all of his strength to hold back. “I am going to bed,” Patrick said, then hung his head. “I don't know when I will be ready to come back to you like we were, Pete. I will, one day. I just...” He crossed his arms in front of himself.</p><p>Pete stood and put a hand on Patrick's shoulder. “I know. I get it. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere.” He gasped audibly when Patrick moved in and put his arms around Pete, pressing his cheek into Pete's shoulder. Pete's arms moved slowly, slowly to encircle Patrick's back. “Anything you need. Just tell me.” Patrick nodded. “I love you, Patrick.”</p><p>“I love you, too, Pete. Very much.” Patrick pulled back and hugged his arms around himself, cupping his elbows in his hands. “Um, good night.”</p><p>Pete forced a half-smile. “Good night.” Patrick went into the other room (Pete couldn't bring himself to think of it as 'Patrick's room') and shut the door, a sad expression on his face as he did.</p><p>******</p><p>Pete started seeing Patrick's therapist with him at every other session. They put the emphasis on getting Patrick to trust Pete with his pain and his darkness, and to understand that Pete was not going to be ashamed, or angry, or (God forbid) leave if Patrick were ever sad, or afraid, or needed some time or space to sort through things.</p><p>“All of these things are perfectly normal, Patrick. No one is happy all the time. You've seen Pete get sad or upset plenty of times, haven't you?” George said, resting an ankle on the opposite knee and fixing Pete with a steady gaze.</p><p>Patrick nodded and looked at his lap.</p><p>“Patrick, we talked about this. I need you to verbalize. To say everything while we're in here.”</p><p>“Yes,” Patrick said, lifting his gaze to meet George's. “Yes, I have seen Pete unhappy. It makes me very sad to see him in such pain. I do not wish to make him feel the way that I feel when I see him hurt, so I try not to be sad.”</p><p>“George, may I?” Pete said.</p><p>“Yes, Pete, of course.”</p><p>Pete turned in his chair toward the younger boy. “Patrick, I know you've been through a lot, but, like, I also saw what trying to forget and repress it all did to you. If you're sad, or scared, or hurt, or whatever, that's all OK. Just feel it, and talk to someone and we can help. But, like, I can't help you if I don't know how you're really feeling, or what's really happening to you, or whatever. I know I probably wasn't a big help for a while there. I just... really wanted to believe you were fine and that all the hurt was behind you, but just, not really because of any burden to me. I didn't want that burden on you, Patrick. You deserve to be truly happy, and I want that for you, more than anything. It's just gonna take a little more time and work than we thought, but that's OK with me. I want to do this with you.”</p><p>Patrick broke down and started crying. “Thank you, Pete. Your kindness means so much to me. I know you will not stop loving me, or abandon me, but sometimes I am afraid of this and I do not know why. You are different and good and... I don't want to think these things anymore. George, how can I stop this?”</p><p>“Well, Patrick, that's gonna be our work here. You have to acknowledge the trauma you went through, and you have to learn to forgive the people who hurt you as a child, as well as yourself. You might not even realize how much negativity you're holding onto, because you've worked so hard to forget about it. It's your defense mechanism. Something your mind needed to do to help you survive as a child.” George looked back and forth between them. “And Pete's right, it's going to take some work. It won't be easy on either of you. But it seems like you and Pete have formed a surprisingly healthy bond and a good understanding of each other, despite your missteps. I feel very good about this. How about you boys?”</p><p>They both nodded, and then simultaneously said, “Yes.”</p><p>Patrick began EMDR therapy to help him go back and unlock his painful memories a little at a time, rethink them, and move them to different parts of his brain where he could acknowledge them without it lighting up the trauma centers of his brain and completely terrifying him. It was exhausting work, and it often left him completely drained emotionally and physically, but he kept working at the Venom Pump and composing music as much as he could. He had to cut back his work schedule a little, and limit open mic performances to once a month, but Gabe was completely supportive.</p><p>“Anything you need, <em>amigo</em>. You're a good kid; you work hard. I'll help however I can.”</p><p>As usual, Patrick just lowered his head and blushed as he stammered, “Th-thank you, Gabe. You are... very kind to me.”</p><p>Pete smiled, totally besotted, at this kid's endless fucking humility. He really had no idea how great he was.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Months passed. Patrick still slept on his own for most of them, though every now and then, Pete would wake to find him curled on the floor next to his bed, with the pillow and blanket from the other room wrapped around him. <em>It's a start</em>, Pete thought.</p><p>He still took Patrick out on little dates for coffee and music shopping, to the movies, or just sitting outside when the weather held. When Pete's birthday rolled around, they all realized Patrick hadn't had a proper birthday party, so they made it a dual celebration for the both of them, each with their own little cake.</p><p>Pete told Joe they needed to hold off on working on the band, but in the meantime, he made a point of having them spend more time with Joe, so he and Patrick could get to know each other while Joe kept trying to bring Andy around.</p><p>“You smoke?” Joe asked as they sat in his backyard. Patrick shook his head. “Too bad. But, more for me, I guess.”</p><p>Andy finally, finally came to hear Patrick sing (thanks to a fuckton of convincing from Joe), and he agreed the kid was a good investment, whenever he was ready. He hugged Pete after the the performance and said, “Don't you ever fucking do that to us again, you fucking asshole.” Pete thought he heard a little bit of a choking sound in his voice, but when Andy pulled back, he was as stoic as ever. He shook Patrick's hand and paid him a couple of perfunctory compliments on his musical ability, but held back on further commentary. Pete didn't blame him. The whole situation was pretty strange.</p><p>As they drove home that Friday night, Patrick said, “Your friend Andy seems like he does not like me.”</p><p>Pete shrugged a shoulder. “Andy takes a while to warm up to people. He doesn't like anyone right away.”</p><p>“I see,” Patrick said quietly. He was silent the rest of the ride home, but Pete gave a small sigh and a smile when he felt Patrick's hand on his knee. He put his own hand over it. Pete never thought he'd be such a damned sap over someone touching his knee.</p><p>Patrick was getting better behind the counter, too, and was back to almost every week at open mic. Andy and Joe came by more often, and the four of them would go out for coffee after Patrick's performances. Pete and Patrick just usually really needed to look at another set of four walls, much as they liked the drinks at the Venom Pump. They talked music, movies, and TV, most of the time. Patrick felt admittedly lost in some of their discussions, but was rapidly devouring superhero and comic book movies, especially Spider Man.</p><p>He really liked the idea that an ordinary teenage boy could become a hero and save lives. “I would like to do this for someone someday. To... um... help someone else feel better and be happier, or save them from danger.”</p><p>“To inspire, maybe?” Pete suggested.</p><p>Patrick lit up. “Yes, that is it. Inspire.” Pete just took Patrick's hand and squeezed it, while Andy and Joe rolled their eyes. Pete stuck his tongue out at them.</p><p>Later, as they drove home, Patrick observed, “The three of you mock each other a lot.”</p><p>Pete smirked and gave a little laugh. “Yeah, I suppose we do. It's all in fun. I love those guys a lot.”</p><p>“I hope one day they will accept me, too.”</p><p>“Of course they do. I mean, they don't know you as well as the three of us know each other, so they're not sure what kinds of things you find funny or what they can and can't say around you, you know, stuff like that, but I'm sure that will come. They like you fine, don't worry.”</p><p>Patrick fell into silence, but he held Pete's free hand, which made Pete's heart soar. Maybe it was a good thing they were doing things so slowly this time around. It made every gesture, every little touch, that much more important, more special.</p><p>They went upstairs to their rooms to change into their pajamas, then hesitated. Well, more precisely, Patrick hesitated, making Pete pause so he wouldn't be undressing in front of him. He felt like they were kind of back to square one in that regard, and he wanted to be respectful, as difficult as it could be to stuff all his desires down. Patrick's well-being was more important. It was new territory for Pete, putting someone else's needs before his own, but he knew it was the right thing, and it was one of the few things for which he felt truly proud of himself.</p><p>Then, of course, he would subsequently shame himself for feeling like not treating this poor, abused young man like a sex object was some kind of major achievement. Still, both George and his own therapist, Lindsey, had assured him that all progress was good progress, and therefore he should be proud of himself for being able to treat Patrick with respect, kindness, and patience. It showed growth and a commitment to making things work in the long run. It showed greater self-respect that he wasn't trying t'+o sabotage things, or engage in other self-destructive behaviors. They both reminded him his behavior demonstrated not only that he believed he deserved Patrick, and deserved a good relationship, but that he also truly did deserve it, because he was willing to work for it.</p><p>All this raced through Pete's mind as Patrick shifted from foot to foot, one hand lingering on the doorknob to his room. (Pete didn't want to think of the heartbreak that came with having to concede that this was no longer their room.) After a full minute, at least, he let his eyes meet Pete's. His face was thoughtful, not stormy or fearful. Pete tried to relax his stance, keep his arms at his sides and not close himself off or, conversely, seem too needy or aggressive. Just... waiting. It was pure fucking torture, but he did it anyway while Patrick's beautiful ocean eyes probed Pete's face.</p><p>Patrick's eyes shifted off into the distance, thinking, and then he disappeared into his room and closed the door. Pete heaved a sigh of disappointment and started changing. He was just pulling his shirt down over his torso when Patrick reappeared in his pajamas, hands folded in front of him and shifting on his socked feet. Again, Pete stood passively, and waited.</p><p>Passive Pete, waiting for Patrick.</p><p>Patrick stepped closer, one foot in front of the other, carefully, as though he were on a tightrope. Pete felt his heart rate pick up wildly, like that night in the institution when the boy he'd only known as 13 had started walking toward him. He knew he was breathing heavily, excitement and anticipation bubbling up inside of him like shaken soda, but he just decided to let that be and feel it as he watched Patrick approach him. Patrick wiped his palms on the sides of his cotton pajama pants, blue and green that made his eyes flash in the most beautiful way. He lifted one of his hands, slowly, tentatively, and brushed the backs of his knuckles against Pete's cheek. Pete swallowed hard and tried to remain still, but his eyes were welling up at the sheer joy of Patrick fucking touching him and it... it was just a lot.</p><p>“You are so wonderful,” Patrick said, trying to hold back his own tears. “I wish things could be simple. That I could just be normal for you.”</p><p>Pete reflected the motion, cradling Patrick's face in his hand. “Patrick, you don't have to be anything for me, or for anyone else but yourself. I love you because you're <em>you</em>. Besides, what the fuck is normal, anyway? Lord knows I'm not standard issue. Never have been.”</p><p>Patrick laughed softly. “No, of course not. I just know this has not been easy for you.”</p><p>“No. But it's worth it.” Pete rubbed his thumb on Patrick's cheekbone, and the younger boy sighed and let his eyes slip shut as he leaned his head into Pete's touch. “And by the way, I'm gonna tell you, you inspire me. You make me want to be a better person, because you deserve it.”</p><p>Patrick gave a heavy sigh. “Pete, I... I want.” He opened his eyes and looked at Pete with a steady gaze as he said this.</p><p>Pete stiffened unintentionally, his face etched with caution. “A-are you sure?”</p><p>A small smile turned the corners of Patrick's mouth upward and he nodded. Pete tried to relax his body, but the tension was just too much so he accepted it, and nodded back. Patrick slowly leaned in and let his lips meet Pete's, slow and chaste. Pete reciprocated, but held himself back from pressing for any more than this soft touch. When Patrick tilted his head and gently prodded at Pete's lips with his tongue, Pete relented and just brushed Patrick's tongue with his own, giving a small, strangled moan as he fit their mouths together. They stayed like that for a minute or two, hands on each other's faces and nowhere else, just sharing a slow, gentle kiss that sent electric currents jolting through Pete's body.</p><p>After a few seconds, the kiss broke naturally, and as Patrick pulled back, Pete's eyes remained closed and he gave a breathy little, “Oh.” He put his fingers to his lips and said, “Oh, Patrick.” He opened his eyes again and looked at the younger boy, strawberry bangs falling over his bright eyes, porcelain cheeks tinted with a dark blush. He was positively lovely.</p><p>“Good night, Pete,” he whispered, trailing a thumb over Pete's bottom lip as it hung dumbly open in amazement.</p><p>“Uh, good night,” he whispered back, then stared, wide-eyed, as Patrick backed away slowly and ducked into his room.</p><p>Pete fell back on the bed, legs wobbly as though he'd been fucked senseless. He'd been kissed right and proper plenty of times, but none of them had felt like this. Not even the first time he and Patrick had kissed before. Because this one, he knew Patrick wanted for real, for himself, and he wanted it from Pete.</p><p>This kiss was, in a way, their first real one.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two nights later, Pete awoke early to find Patrick curled up on the edge of his mattress. He was perched as far away from Pete as possible, but he was there. Pete marveled openly for a minute at the back of the sleeping creature beside him as his side rose and fell evenly. He thought for just a moment of taking Patrick in his arms and waking him with kisses all over his beautiful, warm, sleepy face, but he settled for just shaking his shoulder to wake him for work.</p><p>Patrick jolted, rolled out of the bed like lightning, and blinked at Pete groggily a few times. His hair was standing up in every direction, and one leg of his pajama bottoms had ridden up to his knee while the other fell to his ankle. Once his eyes focused, he smiled sheepishly and mumbled, “I was lonely.”</p><p>“It's OK,” Pete breathed, his eyes roving dreamily over Patrick as the younger boy sleepily rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. “You can come in here anytime. You're safe with me.”</p><p>Patrick moved to scratching his head as he smiled wider and said, “I know.”</p><p>******</p><p>While they were at work that morning, Gabe tapped Pete's shoulder. “Hey, you got a minute? I need to see you in the office.”</p><p>Pete's face filled with worry as he said, “Uh, sure, man. Everything alright?”</p><p>Gabe's eyes darted over Pete's shoulder to where Patrick was refilling one of the espresso machines with his back turned. He looked back at Pete, eyes pleading. Cautiously, but trying to play it cool, Pete just nodded and they went into Gabe's office and shut the door. As soon as they were alone, Gabe smiled widely.</p><p>“What are you up to, you snake-oil salesman?” Pete said with a wicked grin.</p><p>“Flatterer,” Gabe countered. “Look I have to tell you something important, but I figured you'd want this under your hat until you were ready to tell Patrick.”</p><p>“What is it?” Pete said impatiently.</p><p>“You been watching the news at all?” Gabe asked, getting a bit smarmy.</p><p>“Not really, why?” Pete said with a sigh.</p><p>“Well, they're about to pass legislation in Massachusetts to legalize gay marriage, homie.” Gabe smirked and shook Pete's shoulder, willing the message to sink in.</p><p>Pete's mouth fell open as he collapsed into the chair behind him. “No way.”</p><p>“Yes way, amigo. You and your Cholula could be singing vows soon, instead of dancing around each other like the world's worst flamenco act.”</p><p>Pete nodded slowly, still dumbfounded. “Yeah.” Then, startled, he look at Gabe and said, “Oh my God. I could be married to Patrick soon! It might still be too soon, though.”</p><p>“Well, the bill hasn't passed yet, but it's in the works. Maybe by the time it's ready, you will be, too.” Gabe grinned mischievously.</p><p>“Maybe,” Pete said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Gabe, you're a good friend.” He stood and kissed the taller man on the cheek.</p><p>“The best,” Gabe replied, then opened the door and said, “Now, get back to work, Loverboy.”</p><p>Pete rolled his eyes fondly and did just that.</p><p>The two boys didn't speak of Gabe pulling Pete aside, but Patrick would shoot Pete nervous glances every few minutes or so until Pete finally just smiled and patted his shoulder to reassure him. Patrick seemed to relax after that, but only a little.</p><p>When they were in the car, Patrick finally spoke up. “Are you in trouble with Gabe?”</p><p>Pete already had a good lie. “Um, a little bit. My drawer was a dollar off last shift, so he just wanted to tell me to be more careful. Not a big deal, just something he has to watch out for. Everything's cool. Don't worry.”</p><p>Patrick huffed a laugh through his nose and said, “Cool, right. That thing I don't do.”</p><p>At the same time, Pete said in unison, “That thing you don't do,” and they had a laugh together. Pete rubbed Patrick's knee, and Patrick sighed and immediately took Pete's hand, turning it over and lacing their fingers together. After a moment's consideration, he brought Pete's hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. Pete squeezed Patrick's hand in response, giving a breathy sigh. Of course, Pete had already decided, like, forever ago that he was going to marry Patrick. Now, though, he felt even more bound and determined to make it happen, if every touch and little kiss was going to make him feel this way. He never wanted to lose this.</p><p>In the couple of months that followed, Pete started following the news of the marriage bill voraciously. The legislation was meeting some opposition, but Massachusetts was, overall, a pretty liberal state, and he had no doubt this would go through. He could practically feel that piece of paper in his hands, see himself slipping a ring on Patrick's finger. He could even taste the wedding cake.</p><p>But they needed more time, both for the bill to pass and for Patrick to make a little more progress. Pete wasn't sure how much more; they were sleeping in the same bed again nearly every night, and their lazy makeout sessions were even resulting in orgasms most of the time (save the first few times where Patrick would push Pete off of him the moment he got so much as a semi). And it even didn't trigger any more nightmares. Still, Pete wanted to be sure Patrick was ready to go further. Marriage (and everything that<br/>came with it) was a huge deal, and he was not going to ruin this wonderful human being with his own eagerness. He'd made that mistake once already. He figured when the time was right, he'd know.</p><p>******</p><p>One morning, Pete was awoken by the buzzing of his phone on the nightstand. Unfortunately, acknowledging it meant waking Patrick, which Pete stood firmly against on this chilly Saturday morning. They were cozied up together under Pete's down comforter, and Patrick was radiating heat like a blast furnace, his cheeks red and his neck a little damp as he breathed slowly against Pete's chest. These had become Pete's favorite moments, seeing Patrick totally at peace and comfortable—comfort<em>ed</em>—with him. His heart swelled and he didn't even notice he was speaking the thought rushing through his head.</p><p>“Marry me.”</p><p>The words fell from his mouth before he could stop them. They were barely above a whisper, but Pete froze, pulse racing, as Patrick wiggled his toes slightly, swallowed, and murmured, “Yes.” He squeezed Pete's torso tighter against him and smiled one of those perfect, sleepy smiles as he raised his face toward Pete's, eyes still closed. Pete wrapped an arm around Patrick's shoulders and kissed his forehead. Patrick sighed and whispered, “If it means I can wake up this way every day, then yes, I will.”</p><p>“Well, we don't even know when that will happen, <em>Liebling</em>,” Pete said, stretching a bit. “I was just being mushy. Hand me my phone behind, you, please?”</p><p>“Of course,” Patrick replied as he rolled away from Pete to fumble for the accursed object, then handed it to him and immediately nuzzled right back against Pete's side. There was a missed text from Gabe. <em>Shit, he probably wants us to come in to work</em>, Pete thought with an eye roll as he flipped his phone open and read:</p><p>
  <em>Check the news, homie.</em>
</p><p>Pete eyes practically flew all the way open. “Trick, honey, I need to get up.”</p><p>Patrick responded accordingly, eyes widening with worry. “Is everything OK?”</p><p>“Yeah, of course. I just...” He gestured for Patrick to please very kindly move so Pete could get up.</p><p>Patrick eyed him suspiciously. “Are you sure you're OK?”</p><p>“I won't be if you don't let me up,” Pete said, trying to sound affectionate but probably coming across as irritated.</p><p>Patrick got up and out of Pete's way, a hurt and confused look on his face. Pete kissed his still-hot cheek, cradling his head for good measure, and said, “You worry too much. Let's just head downstairs, OK?”</p><p>“OK,” Patrick said, not entirely letting down his suspicious stance as he followed Pete, who practically ran down the stairs to the first floor.</p><p>“Peter, what on Earth?” Dale said as Pete grabbed the paper and started hastily rifling through it.</p><p>There it was, in the National section: <strong>MASSACHUSETTS PASSES HISTORICAL GAY MARRIAGE EQUALITY BILL</strong></p><p>“Oh, my God,” Pete mumbled. “Oh, my God.”</p><p>“Pete?” Patrick asked timidly. “What is wrong?”</p><p>Pete looked at the face of his love: his pink, warm skin; his messy, sweaty hair; and his swirling, worried eyes. The way he shifted on his feet, almost constantly. The way he chewed on his plump lower lip while he watched. Pete smiled widely and said, “Not a goddamned thing. Everything is wonderful, actually.” Patrick visibly flinched at Pete taking the Lord's name in vain, causing the older boy to laugh affectionately. Pete didn't think he would ever tire of his fine sensibilities. “Come on, let's go enjoy the day.”</p>
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<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Getting time to plan things or do any errands without Patrick around was pretty problematic most of the time. He had never really gone anywhere or done anything without Pete there, so it was tough manufacturing any excuses for them not to be together without alerting Patrick that something was up. Conveniently, though, Gabe promoted Pete to Assistant Manager, and this meant sometimes Pete had to go off-premises to pick up supplies or meet with potential vendors. And if he happened to ring-shop or check out suits while he was out, well, Gabe was more than willing to look the other way.</p><p>Not only that, but Pete and Patrick had begun writing and rehearsing with Joe and Andy. It was almost scary how effortless their chemistry was, and how seamlessly the songs fell into place between the four of them. They had enough songs to start booking gigs before too long. With this came times when Joe or Andy would need to consult with Patrick on his compositions, which meant Pete was able to book their plane tickets and research the applications for a marriage license.</p><p>Patrick's citizenship was still hanging in the balance, even after over a year in the country, as the eternal red-tape of the INS threatened to strangle the poor boy. The advantage, though, was the government already had everything there was on Patrick, and Pete's dad had compiled a handy file of all Patrick's growing visa documents, so getting a state license once they were in Massachusetts shouldn't be a huge deal. There were probably all kinds of government satellites zeroed in on Patrick even at that moment, watching him and Joe hashing out guitar riffs, Pete mused. And getting married would be the fastest way to a green card (depending on the legality of it, of course). Not that this was Pete's primary purpose, of course, but any and all advantages were still advantages.</p><p>Pete discussed all of this with Lindsey, at length. She said she thought committing to Patrick was not without its pitfalls, but after all this time, Pete had more than shown that he was willing and able to see Patrick through whatever rough waters might be ahead. While Pete already kind of knew this, it was good to hear it from her. He was going to make sure he and Patrick spoke with George before they left for Massachusetts, as well.</p><p>Pete paced his room while he waited for Joe to drop Patrick off, running over everything he wanted to say, especially the most important phrase, to be sure he wouldn't trip over himself when he finally said it. He stopped and looked at a poster of Morrissey on his wall, imagined it was Patrick, took a deep breath, and started talking softly.</p><p>“Patrick, I've known from the moment I first saw you that you were really special. I have wanted nothing more in my life than to know everything about you, never wanted anything more than to have you look at me the way you do now. I want to make up for all the hurt you've experienced, and do everything I can to make sure that you don't feel that way anymore. You're the most incredible person I've ever known, and I've been sure for a long time that you're the one I want to spend my life with. So I just wanna know, now that we can, um...” He paused and pulled the ring out of his pocket and opened it for Morrissey to see, then began stammering as he struggled to recall the phrase. “W-<em>Willst du</em>... um... <em>Willst du mich</em>... <em>Willst du verheiratet</em>... uh, shit…”</p><p>“<em>Willst du mich heiraten? </em>”</p><p>Pete spun around with a start at the unexpected voice behind him. Patrick stood in the doorway, cheeks and ears tinged pink, guitar case in hand. Pete opened and closed his mouth ineffectually, ring still in his hand, and for no real, rational reason, felt tears welling up. “Well, there goes the surprise. Um, how long you been standing there?”</p><p>Patrick laid the guitar down very gently and then fidgeted with his fingers. “Um, long enough to hear almost everything you just said to Morrissey.” He took a step closer. “Pete, is what you say true? We can… marry?”</p><p>Pete laughed a little through the tears rolling down his face and said, “<em>Ja, Liebling. Ist wahr.</em> They legalized gay marriage in Massachusetts last month. <em>Wir können heiraten.</em>”</p><p>“Will you ask again?” Patrick asked, clasping his hands over his heart.</p><p><em>Straight out of the goddamned <span class="u">Sound of Music</span>.</em> “<em>Patrick Martin Stumph, willst du mich heiraten? </em>”</p><p>“<em>Natürlich</em>, Pete. Yes, I will marry you.” He stepped into Pete’s arms and was greeted with a passionate kiss. When they pulled apart for a moment, Patrick looked into Pete's eyes. He started to say something no doubt flowery and complimentary, but only got out “Pete, you—” before Pete cut him off with another kiss.</p><p>“Shhhh. You don't have to say anything. I already know.”</p><p>******</p><p>They sat in the terminal at O’Hare, waiting for their flight to Boston. Patrick clutched Pete’s hand tightly, partly from nerves about flying and partly from the excitement of where they were going and what they were about to do. Pete had offered him an Ativan for the flight, but Patrick had refused. He didn't want to be too out of it when they landed. Patrick took the aisle seat during the flight, and Pete thought he probably got up to use the bathroom approximately fifty times in the three hours they were on the plane. Whether his bladder or his stomach was nervous, or possibly both, Pete wasn't sure, but every time he was seated, their fingers were interwoven as if for dear life, and a fine sheen of sweat coated the younger boy's face.</p><p>“We're OK, Love. <em>Mach dir keine Sorgen,</em>” Pete said as he kissed Patrick's temple. “We'll be landing in a few minutes. Patrick just nodded and tried to breathe deeply as he leaned his head on Pete's shoulder. Pete inclined his head onto Patrick's. Once they were safely on the ground, they got a cab to the Boston Park Plaza Hotel, where Dale and Peter had arranged for them to stay for the week. As a wedding present, Gabe even gave them the week off fully paid.</p><p>Patrick looked around their Deluxe King room like it was the Taj Mahal. Then again, it probably is to a kid who's only ever seen his village, the institution, and the suburban sprawls of outer Chicago, Pete reasoned. The Park Plaza was one of the nicer hotels in Boston, for sure. Pete chuckled to think what Patrick would do if he ever saw the Presidential Suite. He thought of asking the concierge to show them just to watch his face.</p><p>“I cannot believe your parents would do all of this for us,” Patrick said in awe, his eyes misty. Pete wrapped his arms around Patrick's waist from behind, hooking his chin on the younger boy's shoulder. “Yeah, they're pretty great,” he said. Patrick put his hands over Pete's as Pete kissed his cheek. “<em>Come along, Liebling,</em>” Pete said grandly, turning Patrick around and taking his hand. “We have much to do! Miles to go before we sleep, and all that.” He dug their background documents out of his bag and they hopped the T to City Hall Plaza.</p><p>When they got to the clerk's office, hand-in-hand, their jaws just about hit the floor at the sight of all the same-sex couples waiting and filling out paperwork. They walked up to the counter, and before either one could speak, the woman behind the counter said, “Lemme guess: applying for a marriage license?” Pete and Patrick nodded eagerly and the clerk handed them the forms. They sat side-by-side on the floor and filled in the blanks. Patrick kept glancing up just to look around at the sheer diversity. What struck him in particular were the older couples he saw. He simply couldn't imagine the idea of being an old man and still waiting to marry Pete. He would have done it, of course, but it made him both very sad for those people and very happy that no one had to wait anymore.</p><p>When they finished and handed everything over, the woman looked over their forms, then back and forth between the two of them, and said, “Just so you boys are aware, same-sex marriage is only legally recognized here. None of the other states have voted to legalize or recognize it yet.”</p><p>Pete shrugged. “It doesn't matter to me. The rest of the country will come around.”</p><p>Patrick nodded in agreement. “I understand this, too, and I still wish to marry Pete. It will be real to us, even if no one else agrees.” He turned and looked at Pete adoringly, and Pete rubbed his arm.</p><p>The clerk cocked an eyebrow and said, “OK, boys, your license will be ready in a few minutes.”</p><p>They chatted about the new song Patrick and Joe had been working on when the clerk called them back over and handed them the license. “Good luck,” she said with a smirk. They thanked her hastily and left.</p><p>Once they were back at the hotel, Pete got on the phone and found a Justice of the Peace who would fit them in the next afternoon. “Pete, isn't this a bit... rushed? A little, um, <em>informell</em>?” Patrick asked.</p><p>Pete sighed. “Yeah, kinda, but it's just for now. We can renew our vows and do something bigger when we get home. OK?”</p><p>Patrick thought a moment, then said, “So it will be as though I marry you twice?” He gave a hopeful smile.</p><p>“That's a great way to look at it,” Pete said, crooking a finger under Patrick's chin. “I knew you were the brains of this outfit.” His voice got soft and husky as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Patrick's lips. He melted into it, slipping his arms around Pete's waist and pulling their bodies together. Pete slid his hand to Patrick's jaw as his other arm wrapped around Patrick's shoulders and held him close. Patrick tilted his head and parted his lips, letting his tongue snake out between them to slip along Pete's mouth. Pete growled and claimed Patrick's mouth fervently, their tongues tangling together hungrily.</p><p>“Patrick,” Pete sighed as he trailed kisses down his cheek and jaw to his dampened neck.</p><p>Patrick leaned back to give better access, his pulse racing wildly under Pete's mouth. He brought one hand up to the back of Pete's head, holding him fast against his skin. “Pete,” he whispered desperately.</p><p>Pete ran the tip of his tongue up the side of Patrick's neck, took his earlobe in his mouth and suckled it, then whispered in his ear, “I love you, Patrick, and I'm gonna marry the shit out of you.”</p><p>Patrick laughed, low and sultry. He was grinding against Pete now, his breath coming heavily as he said, “<em>Ich liebe dich, Pete, und Ich werde dich heiraten.</em>”</p><p>Pete growled again and turned them both so he was pushing Patrick onto the bed beneath him and straddling his hips. He intertwined their fingers and rested them on the duvet on either side of Patrick's head. “Say you'll be mine,” he whined as they began thrusting against each other through their clothes.</p><p>Patrick's face and neck flushed with color. He gasped as he fixed Pete with an almost quizzical expression. “Pete, I am already yours,” he breathed, “and you are mine.”</p><p>Pete swallowed hard around the lump in his throat, then managed to croak out, “Oh, Baby,” before he was leaning back down to kiss Patrick again. They whimpered into each other's mouths for a minute before they were opening each other's jeans and stroking each other, rutting into their hands and covering each other with fervent kisses. Pete used his free hand to lift Patrick's shirt so he could pull his rosy nipple into his mouth and suck gently. In his mind, he smugly counted down, <em>3...2...1...</em> before Patrick was moaning, throbbing, and coming messily over Pete's hand. Just the sound, the feel of it, the certainty, was enough that Pete rested his forehead over Patrick's heart and rode Patrick's hand into his own hot, pulsing orgasm onto Patrick's belly. He gave a gasping moan against Patrick's chest as Patrick kept stroking gently.</p><p>“I can't wait to make love to you,” Pete blurted out. Patrick didn't say anything; he just lay quietly and waited for Pete to climb off of him and get towels to clean up. As they buttoned up and Patrick remained silent, Pete finally took Patrick's hand and said, “Baby? Are you alright?” The younger boy nodded, but his face didn't loosen up. “Should I not have...” Pete mumbled, trailing off and looking at his lap. “I-I'm sorry.”</p><p>Patrick sighed and put both his hands around Pete's and pulled it into his lap, looking down at it. “I... Pete, are we to do this tomorrow? After we are married?”</p><p>“Only if you want to,” Pete said without hesitation.</p><p>“I am still a little scared, and I have many questions, but I don't know if it is right that I ask them,” Patrick said softly, his face reddening.</p><p>Pete breathed a sigh of relief and said, “You can ask me anything, Love. We can talk about anything, and I'll answer the best I can. I mean, I don't know everything, but I know some stuff. Come on, lie with me.” They lay down together, just holding hands, and Patrick asked every embarrassing question that was running through his mind. <em>Does it hurt? How would we be positioned? Is there a way that feels best? It doesn't seem like anything should fit in there. How long does it take?</em> He often would not meet Pete's eyes, and Pete didn't make him. However this conversation needed to happen, as long as Patrick was comfortable, Pete could let that be enough.</p><p>Finally, Patrick asked the hardest question: “Pete, what if I cannot? What if I am never ready?” He swallowed hard as his mouth quivered and his eyes welled up. “What if I am just... <em>kaputt </em>?”</p><p><em>Broken. Ruined.</em> Pete's heart sank at the thought that Patrick could see himself this way. He answered, “I don't care. Well, I mean, I would a little, but not enough to make me not want to be with you.” He gathered Patrick against his side and rubbed circles into his back. “I want to be with <em>you</em>, that's all. Whatever happens, however it happens, is up to you, Patrick. I won't make you do anything, or expect anything of you, except that you be here and be you. Not ever.”</p><p>Patrick's body relaxed noticeably as Pete spoke and soothed him. “I love you, Pete. And I feel I do want this with you, but I am scared of what happened before.”</p><p>“I know you are. I am, too. And... I can't make any guarantees. No one can. I mean, the only way to know is... if we try it, I guess.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I would be gentle and make it as good as I possibly could for you, but I couldn't promise it wouldn't trigger you like before. Either way, I'm gonna love you and I still wanna marry you. I love you.”</p><p>Patrick took a deep breath and sighed it out, snuggled even closer to Pete.</p><p>“Come on, do you want to do some sightseeing, have some dinner?” Pete said softly into Patrick's silky strawberry hair. Patrick nodded, so they got up and went out.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Natürlich = naturally, of course<br/>Mach dir keine Sorgen = Don't worry</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The ultra-long sappy, conclusion for these incredibly soft boys.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Pete cooed softly at his sleeping fiancé. Patrick grumbled playfully and buried his face in the pillow. “Come on, <em>Liebling</em>. Let me see that gorgeous face.” Pete passed his hand over the matted tufts of fine strawberry hair as Patrick finally lifted his blushed, sleepy face to meet Pete’s gaze. He wore a dreamy smile as he blinked and wiped his eyes with his fingertips. He was positively precious.</p><p>“<em>Guten morgen</em>,” Patrick murmured as Pete put a hand on the younger boy's hot cheek.</p><p>“Morning, Baby. How you doing?”</p><p>Patrick smiled and sighed. “I am excited today. I cannot wait to be married to you.”</p><p>Pete leaned in and kissed him. “I can’t wait to be married to you, either, ‘Trick. Come on, we should get dressed.” Pete leapt out of bed, but then had to pull a still-groggy Patrick to his feet.</p><p>“Go on, get cleaned up. I’ll go second.” Not that Pete wasn’t extremely tempted to spend inordinate amounts of time soaping up Patrick’s wet, naked body...</p><p><em>Oh God.</em> He had to save that train of thought for later. Not one single solitary minute before that ring was on his graceful, talented finger. Not one <em>nanosecond</em>.</p><p>When it was his turn in the shower, he jerked off until he came so hard he saw spots. God, he wanted Patrick so badly. Wanted to hear all the beautiful, desperate noises he’d make, hear Patrick whisper his name over and over again, wanted them to cling to each other, to be as close as humanly possible, so that there was no telling where he ended and Patrick began. He wanted that connection, that hot, wet, deep sensation of closeness, of completion. Wanted this last piece of Patrick, to have all of that beautiful boy all to himself.</p><p>But only if Patrick were to give it freely, without fear. Well, without fear of Pete, or fear of sharing himself with Pete. It wasn’t that he shouldn’t be a little afraid, and it certainly wasn’t as though Pete wouldn’t be a little afraid, too, but they’d face that together. The point was, Patrick had to say yes of his own volition, not out of any backward sense of obligation.</p><p>And Pete couldn’t possibly think about that rationally if he was fighting a hard-on all goddamned day.</p><p>His mind was a jumble of cascading, tumbling thoughts as he toweled himself off. As they swirled and ebbed inside him, they formed into one repeating sentence: <em>I can’t believe I’m marrying Patrick today!</em></p><p>When he came out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist and one around his shoulders, Patrick was buttoning up his dress shirt. Pete started putting his suit on, standing so he and Patrick had their backs to each other. He bit his lip and thought about every mundane thing he possibly could—multiplication tables, French verb tenses, the entire script of <span class="u">Say Anything</span>—just so he wouldn’t think about sexy things. <em>Hot, sweaty, sexy things, noisy things… with Patrick…STOP IT!</em> He mentally hissed at himself.</p><p>“Pete? Are you alright?” Patrick’s voice cut through his thoughts as he tucked his shirt into his suit pants.</p><p>Pete flinched, not realizing he’d spoken out loud. “Oh, yeah. My brain… just, busy in here. You know,” he said, trying to sound dismissive. “I’m OK.”</p><p>Patrick slid his arms around Pete from behind and pressed his forehead against the top of Pete’s spine. “I know you are a little scared. It’s OK. I am, too. I think this would be normal for anyone who is getting married, but we are... <em>außergewöhnlich,</em> as well.” Pete hummed back questioningly, and Patrick struggled for a moment, saying, “We are, um, rare, or outside what is normal… but not in a bad way.”</p><p>“Special?” Pete offered as he put his hands over Patrick’s.</p><p>“Yes, in a way, I think this is right.” Patrick pressed a light kiss to the back of Pete’s neck and said, “But we can be <em>mutig</em> together.”</p><p>That one Pete knew. “Yes. We’ll be brave together.” He pulled Patrick’s hands up to his mouth and kissed them, then said, “I do have to get dressed first, though.”</p><p>Patrick laughed and backed away to let Pete finish. When he tied his tie and turned around, Patrick was already finished, crisp and smart in a classic black and white suit with an orange tie.</p><p>Patrick’s breath audibly stopped when he saw Pete dressed and straightening his purple tie. “Oh my goodness, Pete, you look absolutely beautiful.”</p><p>“Oh wow, so do you, Patrick. I wish I had the right words but… oh man, you are just… stunning.”</p><p>“Come, Pete, let us marry.” Patrick held out his hand, smiling.</p><p>Pete took it with a wet, choked laugh, totally over the moon for this unique creature, and said, “Oh yeah, Patrick. Let us marry.”</p><p>With trembling hands and shaky breath, they handed over their license to the JP, a tall, curvy black woman with long braids who wore a rainbow stole. She took it and looked it over.</p><p>“Ah, yes. Welcome. Which one of you is Peter, and which is Patrick?” she asked perfunctorily.</p><p>Pete raised a hand. “Uh, I'm Peter. Um, just 'Pete', actually.”</p><p>“Well, it is lovely to meet you, Pete!” She shook his hand vigorously. “I'm Wendy Jenkins, and this must be your darling Patrick Stumph!” She shook Patrick's hand with equal force, nearly clacking his teeth together. She gave a scratching, throaty laugh. “Forgive me if I'm a little overzealous. I am just thrilled to be officiating your wedding today, gentlemen. It's a beautiful day for <em>Love</em>, isn't it?” She emphasized the word with both her voice and emphatic show of Jazz Hands. Pete thought this might be his other new favorite person ever. He grinned madly and threw his arm around Patrick's shoulders as she led them into the hall. Wendy made a big show of looking around behind them. “Hmmm, I don't see no family or friends, so y'all must be... eloping. Am I right?” She dropped her voice conspiratorially, mock-nudging Pete in the ribs and giving him an exaggerated wink.</p><p>Pete was definitely a little in love with her. Patrick looked a little terrified of her.</p><p>Pete chuckled and said, “Uh, kinda. My parents flew us here from Chicago to be married, and we're gonna have a party or something after we get home.”</p><p>She squealed with delight, clasping her hands together. “Oh, my boys, my boys, that is just wonderful! How lovely that your parents stand behind your decision to celebrate your Love and dedicate yourselves to each other! This is truly a blessed day!”</p><p>Patrick went from looking like an overwhelmed deer in the headlights to looking at his feet, his face red.</p><p>Pete squeezed him a little tighter and kissed his head. “Shhhh. <em>Mach dir keine Sorgen, Liebling, ist OK.</em>”</p><p>Wendy's smile dropped a bit and she said, “Oh, honeys, did I say something wrong? I'm so sorry.”</p><p>Pete rubbed Patrick's shoulder and said, “It's OK. It's just... Patrick, <em>kann ich erklären</em>?” Patrick nodded slowly, still looking down. “Um, his parents disowned him for being gay, um, a few years ago.”</p><p>“Ohhh, my poor beautiful baby!” Wendy wailed, scooping Patrick up in a hug. “I'm so sorry, my darlin'!” She pulled back and flattened her palms on his cheeks. “Well, Patrick, if it makes you feel any better, if you were my son, I'd love you every bit as much no matter what. You're a precious gem and don't let no one else tell you any different. We are allllll gems, precious and blessed in the eyes of the Lord! The word of no human, nobody, no how gonna change that! God made you as you are, and God loves you just as you are. Don't you ever forget that. You promise me?”</p><p>Pete was starting to wonder why she wasn't leading a congregation. Then he realized she was officiating gay weddings, and he wasn't sure how many churches were on board with this yet. Patrick's eyes were wet as he nodded. “I understand, Miss Wendy, und thank you. You don't know what that means to me. I wish more preachers were like you.”</p><p>“Me, too. I'd be front and center every Sunday,” Pete agreed, clutching Patrick's hand.</p><p>“Thank you, boys. If the churches ever catch up with me, I'll let you know,” she said with a smile and a wink. “Anyway, y'all came here to get married, didn't you?” she said rhetorically as she turned to walk to the front of the hall.</p><p>“We sure did, Miss Wendy!” Pete exclaimed, hooking his arm in Patrick's and giving him a questioning look. “Ready?” he whispered. Patrick smiled at Pete and nodded.</p><p>“I need you to tell me, Patrick,” Pete said gently, remembering the tools George had taught them. Especially after a trigger like that one. It wasn't Wendy's fault, she didn't know. But it was Pete's responsibility to keep Patrick safe and happy now, and dammit, he was going to do it. “Are you ready to do this?”</p><p>“Yes, Pete, I want to marry you now. I'm ready,” Patrick said firmly, sincerely. He gave one firm nod and clasped his hands to seal the circuit around Pete's elbow. “By the way, I think they are going to make me tell you that about three more times,” he said with a laugh.</p><p>“Good, because I will never get tired of hearing it, and plus I want you to be sure.” Pete passed a hand over Patrick's fine hair as he spoke.</p><p>“Oh, boys?” Wendy called from her podium. “Care to come join me?”</p><p>They both laughed and nodded, then walked together up to Wendy, arm-in-arm.</p><p>Wendy held her arms out grandly over them, then began: “Pete and Patrick, your love is a blessing from Heaven. That you brave the tumult and come all the way here over hill and dale, through forest, sea, and sky, to profess your love and commit yourselves to one another as life partners is truly a testament to the power and will of Love. Now, Life Partners ain't always gonna be a picnic. There's gonna be hard times, sick times, poor times, and angry times. As much as you love one another standing here now, you are gonna hate each other sometimes in the days ahead. You smile and shake your heads because you don't believe me. No one does. But it's true. And you'll always come back to each other. Always, always, always, because the heart of those bad days is passion. Fire! You can't love one another like you do and think the fire is never gonna burn you.<br/>But it's OK when it does. It means you care. It means you're willing to fight to protect yourselves and each other. Just remember on those days that Love was, is, and will be your ally, not your enemy, and that you are allies, and not enemies. Remember the struggles you went through to get here, and know you overcame them together, and you'll overcome whatever happens on your journey, together. Love is strong, and it's gonna make you strong, stronger than anything else that comes your way. Love is brave, and it's gonna make you brave. Love is patient and kind, and sometimes, just sometimes, it's gonna make you those things, too. But people forget Love isn't all about being soft. Love is power, strength, and you boys probably know that better than just about anybody. So draw on it and let it fuel you for your life together because I can tell it's gonna be great. Can I get an 'Amen'?”</p><p>“Amen,” Pete and Patrick said together, emphatically, and laughed.</p><p>“Alrighty. Now, you two boys face each other and hold hands.” They did as they were told. “Now, then, Peter, do you stand here of your own free will, and take—”</p><p>Pete held up a hand. “Miss Wendy? Um, sorry to interrupt, but I forgot to ask before, instead of 'take', could we say 'choose'? I just think 'take' sounds too forceful. Patrick's not an object I could ever just take.”</p><p>Wendy smiled and gave a big long nod. “Of course. Peter, do you stand here of your own free will, and do you choose Patrick to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love, honor, and cherish, for richer or poorer, in good times and bad, in sickness and in health, until death parts you?”</p><p>“I do,” Pete said, smiling widely and squeezing Patrick's hands.</p><p>“And Patrick, do you stand here of your own free will, and do you choose Peter to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love, honor, and cherish, for richer or poorer, in good times and bad, in sickness and in health, until death parts you?”</p><p>“<em>Ja</em>, I do,” Patrick said, nodding frantically and sniffling.</p><p>“OK, let's have the rings.” Pete handed them to Wendy, and indicated which was his and which was Patrick's. Wendy said a quick prayer over them and handed them back to the boys.</p><p>“Alright, now, who wants to go first?” Wendy asked gleefully. Pete nodded to Patrick, who held out his left hand. Pete took it gingerly in his own and positioned the ring over his third finger.</p><p>“OK, Peter, slide it on slowly, and repeat after me: 'Patrick, with this ring, I thee wed.'”</p><p>“Patrick.... with this ring, I thee wed...” Pete's voice cracked as his eyes went red and wet with tears. They swapped and Pete held out his hand for Patrick.</p><p>“Now, Patrick you do the same thing and say, 'Peter, with this ring, I thee wed.'”</p><p>“Pete, with this ring... I thee wed.” He turned to Wendy all of a sudden, his face fearful. “Oh, no, I said 'Pete' and not 'Peter'. Is that wrong?”</p><p>Wendy shook her head. “Not at all, child. You speak from the heart and you call him the name you've always called him. He's still your husband.”</p><p>Patrick looked from Wendy to Pete to Wendy again. “He is?”</p><p>“Well, just one last thing. Now that you have given your heartfelt vows to one another and sealed this covenant with the giving and receiving of rings, by the power vested in me by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, it is my great honor, privilege, and pleasure to pronounce that you are now husbands and partners for life. You may now kiss each other.” She gestured inward between them with both hands and a visible invitation.</p><p>Like they needed one. They stepped toward each other, still holding hands, and pressed their lips together, tears rolling down their cheeks. When they pulled back, they both were wiping at their eyes.</p><p>“I can't believe this day is finally here. I can't believe we're finally husbands. 'Trick, I love you so much!” Pete gushed, kissing him again.</p><p>“I love you, too, Pete. I am so happy.” He threw himself into Pete's arms for a fierce hug.</p><p>Wendy clapped and whooped as they did. “It is a glorious day for Love!” She came down from the podium and threw her arms around both of them in a group bear hug. “Now, go on out into the world and be the Love the world needs, why don't you? I know you young lovebirds have better things to do than stand here, right? Besides, I got a lot more couples to join before I'm through! I'll mail you your certificates in about a week or so, OK?” She kissed their cheeks. “Go on, now. Shine like the gems you are.”</p><p>The boys held hands and started out of the hall. “Thank you, Wendy! You're incredible!” Pete hollered behind him as they picked up into a run.</p><p>As soon as they were outside, they stopped short on the sidewalk, to the displeasure of people actually trying to walk, and looked around. “Um, what should we do now?” Pete asked sheepishly.</p><p>“Whatever we want,” Patrick said breezily, kissing Pete's knuckles and then beginning a rhythmic swing of their hands between them as they strolled along.</p><p>They walked the Common, the Public Gardens, and even took a Duck Tour. They stopped at Starbucks near the harbor and watched the sunset over the water, drinking tea (on the house for the newlyweds). It was a wonderful afternoon, but Pete knew they were stalling, at least a little.</p><p>“You know,” Pete said quietly as he leaned over to his husband, “we're probably the only couple in the world trying to put off their wedding night.”</p><p>Patrick smiled wanly and said, “You are right, Pete. I suppose I am nervous.”</p><p>“Baby, I told you, we don't have to do anything. Tonight or any night. It's all up to you, Love.”</p><p>“Pete, I'm nervous because I do want to. So much,” he whispered, willing himself to meet Pete's gaze. “I want you.”</p><p>Pete looked in awe at this incredible person sitting here with him. His Patrick. “OK, Patrick. Come on, let's get out of here.”</p><p>Patrick swallowed hard and said, “OK, Pete, I'm ready.”</p><p>As soon as the DO NOT DISTURB sign was on the door and they were securely locked inside their room, Pete and Patrick threw their jackets, ties, and shoes off and then just stood toe-to-toe, holding hands. Pete looked his husband's face over for any trace of fear, or doubt, or hesitation, and couldn't seem to find any. Still, he was going to make sure they were absolutely crystal clear about this. Pete Wentz had had a bad habit of being rash before, but he wasn't about to make that mistake again. He was taking no chances.</p><p>Slowly, he ghosted his fingertips over Patrick's soft cheeks and said, “I love you, Patrick. I love you more than anything in the world, and I'm doing this because I want to share myself with you, and only you, in every way, and I want you to share yourself with me. I don't want you to do one single thing that you don't want to, or let me do anything you don't like or don't want, either. Do you promise?”</p><p>Patrick nodded and said, his voice trembling, “I love you too, Pete, more than I have ever loved anyone, and I want to do this with you. I wish for us to share ourselves, to share love and celebrate being married. I won't let anything happen that I don't truly want, and I will trust that I am safe with you. I promise.”</p><p>Pete moved one hand to Patrick's soft, curvy hip and guided their bodies together, the whisper of their shirts rubbing together mixing with their gasping little breaths as they savored each little movement closer. It was almost deafening. Slowly, Pete brushed his lips against Patrick's, and was met with gentle but eager reciprocation. Patrick rounded his arms up under Pete's to hold onto his shoulders as they tilted their heads and deepened the kiss effortlessly, naturally, Pete's thumb skimming restlessly over Patrick's cheekbone as the younger boy adjusted so he could cradle the back of Pete's head.</p><p>“Pete,” Patrick murmured against his husband’s mouth. Pete turned them and sat Patrick on the bed, then knelt in front of him. He unbuttoned his own shirt and threw it off, then slowly reached for Patrick’s shirt. Patrick looked at Pete’s hands, then his eyes, and nodded as he planted his hands on his thighs. Pete went for the wrist buttons first, then undid the front, one by one, his eyes always returning to meet Patrick’s gaze. He got the shirt open and untucked, then slid his hands from Patrick’s neck down under the collar, down his shoulders and arms, removing the garment and laying it aside. Patrick’s face went red as Pete openly admired the exposed porcelain skin; the sparse, gingery tuft of chest hair over his heart; his rosy, peaked nipples; and the soft little rolls of his belly.</p><p>“You’re so beautiful, Patrick,” Pete marveled. “So beautiful.” Pete reached gentle hands out and ran them over Patrick’s arms and torso, pausing to graze his knuckles over those pink nipples, drawing a hitched breath from the boy. After a few minutes of this, Patrick leaned back a little, propped on his hands, and let his head loll back as his eyes slipped shut. He hummed with the pleasure at the way Pete was caressing his body.</p><p>When it stopped, Patrick opened his eyes and looked at Pete, kneeling in front of him and looking up at him adoringly. His hands hovered over the waist of Patrick’s pants and he was waiting with baited breath.</p><p>“You can, Pete,” Patrick whispered, “but only if you do, too.”</p><p>“OK,” Pete breathed, then stood up, but went to his suitcase instead and pulled out candles and a lighter. He placed them all around and lit them, then turned the lights off and pulled the curtains. He undressed to his underwear, then did the same for Patrick. “Lie back, <em>Liebling</em>.” Patrick stretched out on the bed, head on the pillows, and put one arm across his belly. He drew one knee up and followed Pete a bit timidly with his eyes as he went around to the empty side of the bed and lay down beside Patrick. He kissed Patrick’s mouth and then propped his head on his elbow, just gazing down at him. “You still here with me, Patrick?” he asked softly.</p><p>Patrick nodded, and Pete couldn’t help but notice the swish of his hair against the pillow. “Yes, Pete, I am still OK. I want this with you.”</p><p>“Are you afraid?” Pete said, trailing his knuckles along the front of Patrick’s throat.</p><p>Now Patrick shook his head, smiling, and there was that swishing sound again. “A little, but not like before. I want, Pete.” His tone was getting a little impatient.</p><p>“OK. I’m just making sure. I want this to be right, to be good for you.” Pete’s pulse was quickening, and he found the hand he put in Patrick’s hair was shaking. “I guess I’m a little afraid, too. But I want this, too.”</p><p>“Yes, you’ve mentioned that,” Patrick said with a laugh. “Come, no more talking.” He lifted his head and jutted his tongue out to lick at Pete’s bottom lip, then the top, his eyes never leaving Pete’s. Pete gave in and close his mouth over Patrick’s, sliding their tongues together. He moved on top of his husband, the barrier of fear finally crumbling as Patrick beckoned him on, instinctively raising his legs to Pete’s hips as their mouths moved together with increasing intensity. Pete moved to the point of Patrick’s chin, then down to his neck as Patrick ran his hands restlessly up and down Pete’s back. When he sucked on Patrick’s nipple, tongue flicking gently between his full lips, Patrick arched his head back up and his body up against Pete, causing his rapidly hardening cock to push against Pete’s stomach, and making him give a strangled cry of surprise at<br/>that added sensation. As Patrick started undulating beneath him, Pete continued sliding down his body, trailing his mouth along the smooth skin and following with his hands. He skirted around the one spot where Patrick was seeking contact the most, although his hips were undulating smoothly against Pete's body. He wanted desperately to take his husband's cock into his mouth, to taste his sweat and musk, but he resisted. He was not about to have a repeat of the prior situation. He hooked his fingers under the waistband of Patrick’s underwear and slid them down. Once they were discarded, Pete stripped off his own. Patrick propped himself up on his elbows to look at Pete, kneeling between his legs and looking him over in something like disbelief now that they were both naked.</p><p>Pete swallowed hard around the lump in his throat, and made a thick little whimper. He felt his eyes welling up. They’d come so far, worked so hard to get here, it felt like a dream. “Patrick, is this really real? Are we really here like this?”</p><p>Patrick sat up and scooted over so their legs were around each other, and he took Pete’s face in his hands and kissed him. “Yes, Pete, we’re really here, we’re really husbands, and we’re really going to make love. Anyway, I thought we agreed no more talking.” He smiled and kissed Pete again, slow and sweet, and then suddenly Pete was up and rummaging in his suitcase again. He came back with lube and put it beside them.</p><p>“Just want that nearby before we get too carried away.” He kissed Patrick, then said, “How do you want to do this?” He guided Patrick onto his back again, and braced himself over him. “It can be like this,” he piled some pillows and turned Patrick on his belly, then lay over his back, and said in his ear, “or this,” then pulled him off the pile, clumsily and with some giggles, then put them both on their side like spoons and said, “or this.”</p><p>Patrick took his hand, put it over his heart, and said, “Like this, so I can hold your hand like this. I feel safe with you holding me this way. It’s like when we sleep together.”</p><p>Pete kissed his ear and said, “OK, Baby. Whatever you want.”</p><p>In the talking, both of them had softened a little, so Patrick turned around to face Pete, and they kissed and touched for a while until Patrick was rubbing himself on Pete’s thigh and saying, “Pete, please, I, ah, I am ready now, please.”</p><p>“Yeah, Baby,” Pete whispered. “Lie on your back first, OK?” Patrick did as he was told, and Pete ran his hands down Patrick’s body, giving his cock a few tight strokes on the way. Patrick arched and clutched at the bedspread. He put a pillow under Patrick’s hips, lifting and exposing his hole, then coated three of his fingers with lube. He pressed the tip of just one against the tight muscle, and Patrick’s whole body twitched as he tried to close his legs. Pete kissed Patrick’s knee and soothed, “Shhhhh, just breathe and try to relax, Baby. This is gonna feel a little weird, but it’ll get better, OK?”</p><p>“OK, Pete. I will trust you.” He took some deep breaths, wiggled his shoulders, and tried to press back into the pillows. Pete put the pad of one finger in, and Patrick gasped and clenched. <em>Yeah, this is gonna take a while</em>, Pete thought with a smirk. He worked it in to the first knuckle, and slid slowly in and out, just getting him used to the feeling. By the time he slipped in two, Patrick was moving his hips against Pete’s touch, his breathing heavy but not panicked or pained. Pete felt confident at that point, and he crooked his fingers upward a bit and found the soft spot inside Patrick that made him thrust up and start leaking a bit, crying Pete’s name. As he rode the sensation, Pete started scissoring a little, making Patrick bite his lip and hiss, so Pete used his free hand to caress Patrick’s cock a little to offset the discomfort. “Pete, Pete, please,” he panted.</p><p>“One more, Baby. Just one more, then you’ll be ready, OK?” He slid in the third as he continued to stroke him. Patrick cried out again and put his hand on Pete’s as he withdrew his fingers.</p><p>“Oh, Pete, no, don’t stop, please,” Patrick begged. “Pete…” he panted as his husband rolled him on his side and put one leg up toward his chest.</p><p>“I’m right here, Baby.” He slicked himself up and lined up their bodies, pressing the head of his cock against Patrick’s hole. He pushed in slowly, and Patrick bit his lip again and whimpered. Pete inched himself inside, little by little, trying to think about anything except the incredible, tight heat around his cock right now and how close he felt to coming already. Patrick started moving back against him as much as he could, almost like it were second nature, helping work Pete in and closer to him. When Pete was fully in, he wrapped his arms around his husband, lacing their left hands together and holding him close. “Patrick,” he breathed into his ear, “how do you feel?”</p><p>Patrick paused a moment, then said, “Full. Full of you. I feel like you’re in me and all around me. Is <em>gut</em>.”</p><p>“Oh, Patrick,” Pete whimpered as he began to move slowly, “I love you so much.”</p><p>“I love you, Pete,” Patrick whined as he began to match Pete’s rhythm. “Please, <em>Ich will mehr</em>.” He reached behind Pete’s back to pull him closer. Pete buried his face in Patrick’s warm, damp neck and pushed further, holding his love tight. He heard a high-pitched sound and realized it was his own voice, chanting and babbling desperately as Patrick held Pete’s thigh and his hand, making his own fevered noises.</p><p>“Touch me, please,” he begged, guiding Pete’s hand downward. “Please.”</p><p>Pete wrapped a hand around Patrick’s cock, throbbing and leaking. He was close, and Pete could feel his own orgasm building low in his belly, sending tingles up his spine.</p><p>“Patrick,” Pete panted, “Oh, fuck, Patrick, Baby, you feel so incredible.”</p><p>Pete sped up a little, his moans getting more frantic as Patrick clenched down around him and squeezed, hot and tight and perfect. Patrick let out a wail as he came over Pete’s hand, his body clamping even more, and Pete bit back a scream as electric sparks shot all through him and he came deep inside Patrick, pulsing and shaking.</p><p>“Patrick,” he groaned against his husband’s shoulder. “Oh, Patrick.”</p><p>“I… I am still here, Pete,” he panted with a weak chuckle as he squeezed Pete’s hand.</p><p>Pete smiled and kissed Patrick’s sweat-soaked shoulder. “I’m gonna pull out and we’ll clean up, OK?”</p><p>“OK,” Patrick whispered, then winced and hissed as Pete slid himself out slowly. He groaned as Pete got up and wobbled to the bathroom, coming back with a cloth to clean them up. They climbed under the covers, sweaty and sated, and Patrick curled into Pete’s side, sighing contentedly. Pete squeezed him close, and they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.</p><p>Pete awoke with a start, then immediately rolled over to find Patrick sleeping peacefully beside him. He breathed a sigh of relief and smiled widely. Patrick opened his eyes shortly after, and when he found Pete looking at him, he smiled sleepily. Pete put a hand to Patrick’s smooth cheek, pink and still sleep-warm. “Morning, <em>Liebling</em>,” he said<br/>hopefully. “How are you?”</p><p>“Pete,” Patrick replied, his voice gravelly, “I had the most wonderful dream. I saw your garden, the one you spoke of from your dream. We were lying together, and we were warm and happy, like we are now. The sun was shining, and your smile was brighter and even more lovely than even the sun. It was so beautiful.” His eyes were misty as he spoke, leaning into Pete’s touch.</p><p>“No nightmares?” Pete said, his voice breaking.</p><p>Patrick shook his head. “No nightmares. Pete, you set me free.”</p><p>Pete held Patrick’s head as he covered his face in kisses, then wrapped his arms and legs around his husband in classic Wentzian fashion. “Well, you’ve captured me, Patrick. I’m yours forever.”</p><p>Patrick laughed as he tried to move his arms. “Who is captured?”</p><p>“Tomato, tomahto, whatever. Speaking of which, I think a manly-sized breakfast is in order.”</p><p>“Absolutely,” Patrick agreed. “But I need my arms.”</p><p>“You can’t eat breakfast and be captured?” Pete pouted. Patrick shook his head. “Alright. I’ll release you for breakfast, but more capturing is definitely in your future.”</p><p>“<em>Das ist OK.</em>”</p>
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